Arkadia: The White Crown (Book 2)
by Kataranara
Summary: (Spoilers if haven't read the first book) Clarke is in Azgeda territory surrounded by enemies. She has to make some rash decisions all while keeping the ones that she loves safe. Bellamy, however, has lost himself in violence and revenge, seeking vengeance against Azgeda for their actions. Both are desperate to speak again but neither knows the destiny that awaits.
1. Chapter 1: Azgeda

**Greetings readers! Hope you enjoy this sequel. More chapters soon! Please R &R! **

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The morning was brisk, the first frost of the year making even the dullest of browns and grays sparkle in the sunlight. Roan was saddling his horse to ride to the northern pass, a couple hours from the capital where a large elk had been spotted grazing the morning before. The creature would have travelled some distance in the day that passed, always evading the scent of humans and predators. Roan, however, was confident that he would have that prize. It was rumored to be huge, almost ten hands high with a glorious rack of antlers.

He'd already eaten, saddled his bow, and was about to take off when a couple of surprising huntresses interrupted him.

"Are you always up this early?" Roya asked, the sleep still evident in her face. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "What could be so important this early in the morning?"

"I didn't expect you two here this morning," Roan commented, eyeing his mother. "Are you joining me?"

"You're the best tracker I know," Nia commented, moving to saddle her own horse. "And a morning hunt is a good opportunity for the three of us to speak without being overheard. It seems like it has been a while since I spent time with my son and daughter."

Roan groaned at this, realizing his morning hunt was about to turn into a fiasco. He hated when his mother plotted; her proposals were always hidden demands. Roya just chuckled, saddling her horse as Roan hoisted himself up. His horse was a beauty, all black with a silky black mane. It suited Roan and by the time he'd galloped about the yard, his mother and sister were saddled and mounting their own horses. He saw no point in waiting for them but his better judgement convinced him to do so. He'd hear about it later, no doubt.

"So, where are we off to?" Roya asked, catching up to him on her trotting brown horse. "What is our prize?"

"An elk in the northern pass," Roan commented, glancing over at his mother. "Are you sure you don't want a royal escort?"

"Nonsense," Nia shrugged. "I have my son and daughter with me. What other protection could I need?"

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Roan asked, urging his horse forward through the gates that lead down the cliff toward the forest to the north. "It must be urgent if you both are here."

"Always suspicious," Roya chided, her eyes narrowed.

"It's about our family, more importantly, the future of our family," Nia urged, motioning at the early-risers who had gotten a glimpse of their queen as she trotted by. "Tell me, Roan, when are you going to choose a bride?"

"That's sudden," Roan scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm young, why would I settle down now?"

"Because, the potential to have heirs and the security of producing heirs is fundamental for a king," Nia scolded, glancing sideways at him. "Didn't I teach you that?"

"Yes, but I'm not king yet," Roan commented. "And when I become king, there are more pressing concerns than heirs."

"What could be more important?" she questioned, urging her horse forward down the dirt and stone path that lead to the main road north.

"Our people; feeding them, keeping them content, keeping them occupied, and bringing glory to Azgeda," Roan retorted, his voice low and serious.

"You can't achieve those things if you cannot produce an heir," Nia insisted. "And even if you could, who would lead Azgeda when you are gone?"

"I will take a bride," Roan urged, trotting a little faster. "Just not today."

The ride north was fast, spurring their horses down the dirt path at a fast pace until they came upon the fork in the road. Both led north but one took them past a military encampment, the other through the woods. Roan chose the woods, seeing as he didn't want any more people tagging along for a hunt. It had been a while for him and hunting always cleared his head. The cold morning air, the silence of pursuit, and the satisfaction of a kill were all sacred to him. It wasn't until they'd travelled some distance in silence that the relay station and trading post on the south side of the pass was visible. It was all frosted over in the morning sun, the rays turning from pink and orange to yellow, almost blinding them as they tied their horses outside the large wooden cabin. A man, close to sixty years old, came out to greet them and when he realized who it was, bowed earnestly. He had patchy fur clothes on, a scraggly black and gray beard, and wore some tattered hat that covered his ears.

"It's an honor my Queen, my prince, my princess…" he said, his eyes averted respectfully. "What can I help you with?"

"The elk that was spotted yesterday," Roan urged. "I've heard talk of it from a huntsman who came in from the northern pass yesterday morning. What do you know of it?"

"I'm the one who spotted it," the man assured, glancing up at Roan. "He was up over the west rise there, grazing on the hillside on the last of the greens before the frost."

"Have you seen him since?" Roan questioned, glancing up at the glimmering western hills overlooking the passage and the cabin.

"I heard the calls of elk and the howls of wolves last night but nothing since," he admitted. "They may have moved on."

"Thank you," Roan nodded, grabbing his bow from the saddle and strapping it over his shoulder. "Feed and water our horses. We'll be back with the prize."

"The pleasure is mine," he smiled, looking up at Nia. "It truly is an honor to serve my queen."

"You served under my grandfather, didn't you?" Nia asked, glancing over the man. "I remembered you when I first came to the capital all those years ago."

"It was an honor to serve your grandfather, your mother, and you," he nodded, bowing lower. "A noble family with strong ties to our ancestry."

"Are we going to speak all morning or hunt?" Roan asked, glancing over the three of them. "Come, we have a lot of ground to cover before we get to the top of that rise."

"Don't be so rude," Roya chimed, smiling at the elderly man. "This man deserves our respect."

Roan only rolled his eyes, irritated at the face his sister presented to others. He knew it well, seeing it from a young age. She always kept her true-self hidden, presenting herself as the respectful and tempered princess. At times, she even seemed naïve but Roan knew better than to underestimate her. She was vicious when she had to be and was a master tactician and general.

"Your brother is right," Nia shrugged, looking back up at the western rise. "We have a lot of ground to cover if we have any chance of catching our prey."

"I'm glad someone agrees," Roan shrugged, trekking off toward the tree line at the base of the large hill. After a few moments, he heard his mother and sister following, both making sure to keep quiet as they trekked, single-file, up the steep rises and slopes. It wasn't until they'd been walking for a while that the trees finally broke, revealing the smooth green hills with slate gray rocks and boulders protruding naturally. It was here Roan spotted the first track, noting the waste the animal left behind in the night. The tracks were no older than a day and Roan felt confident that the creature remained to graze on the last of the ferns and foliage on the hillside and in the forest.

"Let's skirt the forest and come up over the rise from the southeast," Nia whispered, looking at the trees above. "The wind is coming from the northwest and any hint of us will scare off our prey."

"He's headed west, toward the river. We should be able to spot him from the top," Roan nodded, motioning for Nia and Roya to follow. It wasn't often that he followed his mother's advice, but her skill was undeniable. They skirted east along the forest and then north, following the ledge until the soil became stone and loose under their feat. It was a slow climb from there, slowly gaining footing on the loose soil, jagged rocks, and sparse bushes. It wasn't until the sun was fully above the horizon, gaining height, that they crested the western peak. It overlooked the valley below where the passage north wound for miles. It also overlooked the rolling forests and hills of the north, as far as the eye could see.

Roan truly enjoyed this view, coming here quite often to hunt and to think. He preferred solitary hunts but often thought that this place was somehow sacred. To the south, over the trees and past the swamps and farmland sat the great green lakes that marked the river valley where Roan's home sat. Even this far away, the peak of the great hall could be seen over the horizon, jutting out above the pines glimmering silver.

As Roan looked about for signs of the elk, he spotted the river to the northwest, weaving through the hills. It was a shallow river but attracted a lot of wildlife so Roan hoped that he could spot his elk from here. The river was closer to the rise than the cabin, Roan's eyes scanning the horizon of rocks and ferns for the antlers. It was after a few moments that Roya nudged him, pointing toward the northern edge of the river before it cut back east. There, standing on the rocky banks of the river was the elk. The shape wasn't mistakable and Roan could clearly see the flick of his tail and the white of his chest. He couldn't have been more than 80 yards away.

"Set up the shot," Nia whispered, standing perfectly still as Roan pulled his bow off his shoulder. "This is easy."

"Quiet," Roan warned, glancing at his mother. It was only after he'd shot the bow and brought down the elk that his mother spoke again.

"Tenacity, skill, and the predatory instincts of the hunter are important for success," she commented, following Roan and Roya down the hill toward the river. Roan only sighed, glancing over his shoulder at his sister knowingly. Ever since they were children, their mother liked to teach them life lessons out of every situation they encountered. It was almost tiring, watching her circle around the point like a vulture before going for the bite.

"What are you really trying to say?" Roan asked, jumping over a low ledge onto a sloping hill. "What is the real reason you two came all this way so early in the morning? We haven't hunted together like this in over ten years."

"Just tell him so he'll stop being so grumpy," Roya joked, keeping pace with him as they came down over the banks of the old river's edge. "It's not as fun when he's grumpy."

"You two always have something up your sleeve," Roan commented. "What is it this time? More Arkadian attacks? More wars against The Commander? How about some marriage talk to warm me up to whatever it is you're going to ask me?"

"He knows us so well," Roya smirked, keeping pace as they strode toward the water's edge where the elk had fallen.

"You both know I am always looking to the future," Nia commented, watching both Roan and Roya squabble. "So, I need you to listen to what I have to say." Roya just nodded, approaching the fallen elk first, pulling the large arrow from its flesh.

"You two seem to be always plotting," Roan commented, crossing his arms and examining his kill.

"When did you become so cynical?" Roya grumbled, looking at the arrow in her hand.

"And defiant," Nia commented, squatting down to examine the kill. "Very clean. It'll be a great prize and a good amount of meat for storage."

"Let's get on with it before the wolves become curious," Roan noted, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket above his elbows. He pulled his long knife from around his waist and began cutting, Roya and Nia quietly following him until most of the meat was packed into the sacks they'd brought, the head tied with Roan's extra shirt over his shoulder like a pack.

"A family that skins together, wins together," Roya commented, a cheesy grin on her face as they began trekking back up the hill toward the peak. It would be a faster walk back but the extra weight Roan was carrying made him slower than before. After they'd come over the rise and could spot the cabin down in the valley, Nia turned to Roan, stopping him in his tracks.

"We need to talk," she insisted, glancing around. "At least out here, I know we won't be overheard."

"Then talk," Roan insisted, setting the head and the pack down as he took a seat on one of the boulders. He adjusted his boots, watching his mother bemusedly the whole time.

"I've come up with a plan to make Arkadia bend to our will," Nia began, moving to sit down on another bolder close by. The wind was whipping but it wasn't cold, the air fully scented with pine and blood.

"Just like the other plans?" Roan asked, glancing up at Roya. "Who cares about Arkadia when our own people can't farm enough to survive the winters?"

"We cannot farm land that we do not have," Nia snapped, glaring down at him. "Arkadia was gifted some of our best farmland in the south and yet they charge us triple the price they charge the rest of the coalition."

"That's because you attempted to expel all their goods from Azgeda markets and trading posts," Roan warned. "You attacked their land. Why in the world would you want to cause problems with Arkadia again?"

"Are you saying we should bow and scrape to them to get what we need?" Roya asked, her face a mixture of distaste and disbelief.

"No but starting a war with Arkadia and by extension, The Coalition, is not the best way to go," Roan argued. "How would we fund this war? With what supplies? We barely grow enough food for our people now, let alone during war."

"Listen to what I am saying," Nia retorted, her eyes narrowed. "We wouldn't have to fight anyone if you'd consider a marriage."

"To whom? We've already spoken to The Commander about my suit for Lexa. He saw it as a half-hearted attempt at peace just like I did."

"No, we don't make that deal with The Commander," Nia insisted, her eyes alight with possibility. "I've just been informed that the Blake's of Arkadia are seeking a bride for their eldest son and heir. Another suit is needed by Jake Griffin for his heir as well."

Roan's eyes went wide at this, looking her over cautiously. "Jake Griffin has an heir?" he asked, looking over at Roya for confirmation.

"She made her first public appearance three years ago at her birthday and then again just the other day at the Arkadian games," Roya nodded. "My spies confirmed a golden-haired teen seated with Abby Griffin."

"How did we not know about her before?" Roan asked, glaring at his mother.

"I've known about her for years," Nia confirmed, watching the irritation in Roan's face. She dismissed it, continuing so as not to be interrupted. "Years ago, I sent Jake Griffin a proposal that his only daughter marry my only son. Gifts were exchanged, official agreements were made and an engagement was planned. Now, it seems that something has changed. This heiress is seeking an Arkadian for a suit and that is dangerous for all of us…"

"Wait," Roan sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You're telling me both Blake and Griffin are seeking marriages for their teenage heirs? And you've already promised me to some heiress?"

"She's a doctor, very skilled and very ambitious. She's also trying to find a match with an Arkadian," Roya reiterated, crossing her arms over her chest. "We've found enough information on her to know she just turned sixteen. We're gathering more intel but that's not the biggest issue."

"What is, then?" Roan asked, standing again, slinging the packs over his shoulders.

"It's Kayden Blake," Nia confirmed, explaining as they walked cautiously down the hill toward the tree line. "He's specially requested that we consider Bellamy as a suit for Roya."

"He's got some balls," Roan commented, glancing over at Roya who was grinning sheepishly. "And you're okay with this?"

"I don't like it but we've actually come up with a better idea," Roya admitted. "We use the summit coming up in a few weeks to infiltrate them and kidnap this Griffin heiress."

"Oh," he laughed, looking back at his mother doubtfully. "That sounds easy," he commented, the sarcasm lingering between them.

"It will be if we use the pretext of the summit and use the Blake's suit for Roya as a cover for our real reason for being there," Nia nodded. "Blake will think he's double-crossing Griffin and Griffin will blame Blake for going behind his back. Forcing this heiress to come here, to cut her off from any Arkadian match, is the next logical step. If she won't come of her own free will..."

"Once they start fighting amongst themselves, they will be easy to persuade," Roya nodded. "Think about it: the future Queen of Azgeda is an Arkadian heiress. This agreement will be beneficial for both parties."

"Even if you could get her out of Arkadia and back here, there is no way to get The Commander on board with this," Roan commented, glaring down at her. "We cannot sustain attacks against Arkadia and The Coalition, even with our alliance to the Lake People."

"We wouldn't have to," Nia snapped, becoming impatient. "Don't you see? This is our big chance to take the last remaining heiress of the Griffin family and get her on our side! If you wed her, it would mean the end of war between Arkadia and Azgeda. We could get our land back, annex Skaikru, and be the most powerful nation in the Coalition. Perhaps, we could even control the coalition with such a union."

"Because she's just going to submit to her kidnappers, is that it? And when The Commander demands her return? When he orders his troops into our lands, then what?" Roan questioned, looking between them.

"You sound like a coward," Roya interjected, looking up at Roan. "Our people are strong and we have the largest army in the entire coalition. The Commander would be a fool to sanction an invasion. He's already made enemies of Podakru and Ingranrona Kru..."

"Podakru are our allies but I've heard nothing about the plains riders. What makes you so confident they would turn on the coalition?"

"I've heard rumors," Roya smirked, avoiding the tree trunks as the trekked toward the cabin.

"If you're so confident why don't you marry Blake and keep me out of it," Roan groaned. "I'll choose a bride when I am good and ready."

"You don't understand, do you?" Nia asked, following him into the trees, her temper revealing itself. "If we don't make a move and she is married to an Arkadian, Azgeda will always be in danger. A united Arkadia behind one family, one leader, spells trouble for all of us. Don't you get that? They are on their way to becoming a monarchy and we've been barely able to hold them off and supply our troops. Do you really want that to be the end of it all? Is that how you want your reign to be remembered? The king who lost Azgeda?"

"I'm not the one seeking a war with Arkadia!" Roan snapped. "You two seem to think rushing into war is our only option. You seem to believe that is the only way we can win! The deception and lies only ruin the trust we've tried to build!"

"Then what is your plan?" Nia asked, keeping pace with her son as they trampled across the forest floor. "Peace? Do you want to just scrape by with gifts from our enemies? Take the more cautious road?"

"I'm a warrior," Roan spat, glaring over at his mother, his pace slowing to a stop. "I'm a future king and I will not put our people's lives at risk so easily. I will not drag them into a war they cannot win."

Nia only stared at Roan for a moment before walking on, Roya glancing at him briefly before following behind her mother. Roan knew what they were thinking, what they wanted to do. He wasn't naïve but he knew that war was a bad option for their already struggling army. He also knew that this kind of mission carried great risk that almost outweighed the reward. Why should he go after an Arkadian heiress when a more likely marriage would present itself once he was king?

The walk back to the cabin was silent and a little tense but Roan didn't care. He wasn't going to just do what his mother demanded. He'd become sick of that years ago when, on his twentieth birthday, she denied him the crown. The warchiefs and council all agreed that he was still too young and since then, talks of his ascension have become less and less commonplace. He was determined to be king and had decided that soon, his time would come. He just needed most of the council and the warchiefs on his side. However, the longer he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

He should have inherited long ago and the fact that his mother was speaking of marriage could only mean she was finally considering crowning him. He didn't think that choosing a bride meant that he would be one step closer to the throne, but it wasn't a bad step. An Arkadian bride could be both beneficial and intriguing. He'd never once spent time in Arkadia nor did he consider their way of life to be superior to his own. If anything, Azgeda would be here long before and after Arkadia. However, an Arkadian bride would bring some security with it. Peace with Arkadia and by extension, The Coalition could be just the thing Azgeda needed to pull itself together. His mother had the right idea but he wondered if the ends really justified the means.

She was insistent that this heiress wouldn't come of her own free-will which made Roan think that his mother knew more than she was letting on. He also thought it was rather sudden to finally decide that this was the right time to find a bride and crown him king. It was almost too convenient and the longer he thought about it, the more irritated he became. He couldn't see what her real motivation was, no matter what scenarios he pictured. Allying with Arkadia was brilliant but doing it in this way only caused unnecessary tension between the neighboring nations.

The approached the cabin now where the older man was working hard to herd his goats. He nodded to them in respect as they passed him to enter the small stable where their horses were saddled. Once they'd loaded the meat and the trophy onto their saddles, they were off, the sun rising higher in the sky. It wasn't yet noon but somehow Roan felt like his day had been a long one, making him feel more tired than usual. Before he could stop himself, he decided to reason with his mother, hoping to discover her true aim in this reckless plan.

"Why do you want me to seek a bride so suddenly?" Roan asked, glancing over at his mother who rode between them as they approached the military encampment at the crossroads to the west. They'd avoided it on the way out but were happy to show their faces to their troops and the commoners that joined the war-party. They'd likely boost morale riding as a family among the troops.

"Why do you think?" she snapped, glancing over at him. "Do you think I want my unmarried son inheriting the throne? I've told you before… Azgeda needs an heir."

"Pushing me to marry is an odd way of saying that it's time for me to claim my grandfather's crown," Roan commented, glancing at Roya. "And why are you so insistent on this? What do you gain?"

"Freedom, if you must know," Roya assured, sitting up straight. "Do you think I want to wed before you? Do you think I want mom on my back because you refuse to get serious? I want that freedom and invisibility; it's time you took the spotlight and lead our people. I'm tired of cleaning up your mess…"

"Selfish as usual," Roan replied, glancing over at his mother. "Does that mean you are ready to trust me with the crown?"

"Almost," she replied, looking over at him with that stern but questioning look.

"Why does it have to be an Arkadian?" Roan asked, his voice conveying the defeat he already felt. "Why are you so sure she won't come of her own free will? Why didn't you tell me about this before so I could help?"

"Keeping you in the dark ensured the best outcome," Nia explained, a slight smirk coming over her face. "If we kidnap the girl and she refuses to marry you, we can just force her into submission by threatening an invasion. She'll have to comply unless she's the selfish type in which case, the power and position should be tempting enough. If we announce your union, make it clear to both Arkadia and the Coalition that she is safe and willing to marry you, war will be avoided."

"Let's say she calls our bluff and we invade," Roan warns. "What then? We're no match for the Coalition troops or the Arkadian guns."

"There are other ways to make her submit," Roya commented, a smirk on her face. "Whether you convince her, bribe her, threaten her, or blackmail her… the outcome will be the same. She will have to agree, one way or the other."

"This is a really shaky plan," Roan admitted, his eyes darting between them. "I'm more than happy to give our people something to fight for, to give them more opportunity and wealth but if we fail, if something goes wrong, it won't just be us that die."

"Every Azgeda citizen will fight to the death," Nia assured, her head high as the troops started forming along the road, bowing and hollering for their Queen. "Look at them all, ready to die for us. They would fight the gods themselves if their King asked them to."

"You have their loyalty," Roya nodded, smiling at some of her own men, the simple and eccentric mask coming down as she waved. "You are the most well-loved general and you are their future king. Use that to your advantage and play the role you were born to."

"If the king doesn't lead," Nia said, her voice low as she nodded at the men who'd continued to line up and watch them as they passed. "He cannot expect his subordinates to follow."

"Convincing this teenage heiress to agree to a match shouldn't take you too long," Roya smirked. "That is what we are relying on. It will stall The Coalition and Arkadia long enough to conduct a ceremony and officially announce your union."

"It sounds like you both have thought long and hard about this," Roan commented, nodding at the men and riding on, the cheers behind them fading the further they went. "How long have you two been planning this kidnapping?"

"Honestly?" Roya asked, smirking at him. "I've only known about all of this for a couple weeks. I didn't think you'd agree to the plan but I'm hoping I am wrong. It is the best way to win power, land, and a relative peace for our people."

"You've set plans in motion?" Roan asked, looking between them disbelievingly.

"We will if you wish it," Nia admitted, glancing over at him curiously. "It's your choice."

"Will you be the king that fights or the king that submits?" Roya asked, her eyes narrowed on him. "I know which path I choose…."

Roan looked at her closely, his mind racing with possibilities. He didn't trust his mother or Roya but knew that their assessment was sound. Either way, the Griffin heiress will be his wife and he will become king, able to do things his way when the time comes. He'd hoped that they might be able to convince her but Roan doubted such a spoiled child would enjoy being captured and forced into marriage. He also didn't want to shy away from his sister's boldness; he would not allow her to show him up. The troops trusted him as did the generals and it was time he led his people to the future he saw for them. He only hoped that when the time came, he could be the leader that brought them prosperity and glory to their ancestors.

"Find out what you can about this heiress," Roan finally spoke, looking back at his mother. "I want to know everything about her before she arrives."

"And how will you persuade her?" Nia asked, her voice triumphant.

"Any way I can," Roan replied, looking over at Roya. "You have to convince the Blake's that you are serious about this marriage. You'll take ambassador Syd to negotiate."

"I believe we should both go to the summit," Roya admitted. "We can both use Ambassador Syd as a go-between to find out information as well as negotiate the possible marriage alliance. You can escort her to the gala to show Arkadia that you and the heiress are together and it looks better when word spreads of her disappearance. It'll be more advantageous that they see you as the future king and a reasonable man that the heiress decided to elope with. Not to mention, I could test the waters with the Blake faction. Set up a private meeting to discuss a possible marriage. I'd also like to get the measure of Bellamy Blake."

"And you can get me all the information I need about this heiress?" Roan asked, glancing at his mother. "This suit could lead to a greater Azgeda than ever before or the destruction of our people. I need to know all the facts. I also need to know why she won't readily agree to the match; kidnapping her is an extreme step."

"We'll both learn more when we are there in a couple weeks," Roya nodded, looking at her mother. "We'll set up a team and run drills to better plan an escape."

"I'm sure there are several ways to get in and out of Arkadia without being seen," Nia commented. "Find that out before you plan anything. We have two weeks to plan this and not a lot of information to work with."

"It is wise not to reveal all of our tricks just yet," Roya commented, pulling up on the reins of her horse as they descended a slight slope along the path. "They must see you as the future king and a reasonable man but you must also show them what they expect."

"What do you mean?" Roan asked, eyeing her curiously. "Show them what they expect?"

"Be reasonable, be noble, be the future king of Azgeda when you are in Arkadia," Roya explained, Nia smirking at her knowingly. "But you must also show them that their assumptions are valid. No doubt, they see you as a brute and fool so let them believe it. It only works to your advantage."

"Why would I allow them to see me as a fool?" Roan asked, disbelievingly. He didn't like the idea of a bunch of Arkadian nobles snickering and judging him behind closed doors.

"Because, they will underestimate you and that is when you will show them who you really are," Roya nodded. "They already know you are a great warrior but now you have to show them just how great. Always keep your prey on their toes, always keep them guessing."

* * *

"Have we heard word from Roya's men?" Roan asked, coming into the large hall of the palace. This had always been Roan's favorite room in the entire fortress. It was a large rectangle, with a slight platform that housed an ornate carved throne, antlers and branch-like designs woven into the arms and back. The room was tall, allowing for a gallery to overlook the main floor where four long tables sat, benches stretched on each side. Down the middle of the room, ornately sculpted, was the long fire where they would cook whole animals during feasts and festivals. The smoke collected in the roof to leak out of the small slits in the paneling. The only windows in the room were along the ceiling, just frames interlaced with woven branches and carvings to allow light to shine through.

The pillars about the room stretched to the gallery, separating the room into three sections. Though ornately carved, they were old, worn and covered in notches from knives, bows, axes, and such. Roan appreciated this little imperfection, the way the room almost commanded attention making it feel slightly over the top. There wasn't much use for the room, intimidation and festivals being the extent of it. His mother would often sit in here, on the throne, thinking which he found to be one of her redeeming qualities. She sat there now, in the same black robes she always wore, a frown on her face.

Roan was dressed in his traditional black and blue tunic with dark leather breeches and furs. His hair was tied back over his head and wet. He'd ridden hard all night with the small company of guards back to Azgeda. Their plan had worked the night before and he had arrived a couple hours before dawn.

His trip to Arkadia had not gone as smooth as he'd have liked. Their technology was fascinating and their food was more flavorful but the small beauties of Arkadia didn't compare with the heiress Roan was introduced to. Clarke Griffin was a sight to behold: golden curly locks, deep blue eyes, and curves in all the right places. For being almost five years his junior, she was absolutely stunning. She was also smarter than Roan had planned. Though he played his part as the gruff, foolish future king of Azgeda, he could tell that Clarke wasn't holding back. He also noticed that she'd already chosen the man she wanted to marry.

Though it was never said, and the looks were very subtle, he could see the yearning in the Blake boy's eyes when Roan would touch her. He could see the anger as well when he'd grabbed her more than once; he couldn't resist seeing that fury in those black eyes. He could also see the uncomfortable way Clarke trailed him that night, always trying to remain out of reach but polite. He had to hand it to her: she was a very good actress. Roan also pretended not to notice when both Clarke and Bellamy disappeared at the same time. It was obvious that they had already made their decision which cemented Roan's plan of attack.

He'd signaled his sister that night and everything went according to plan. Roan left Arkadia with his escort before anyone else could notice, Roya following behind him to wait for her troops at the designated tunnel. A few hours later, a rider had caught up to Roan at a relay post just over the border to inform him that Roya was on her way back with their prize. Roan wasn't happy that some of his men had died; he expected capture or injury but death wasn't a part of the plan. Nor were the shots that were fired off during their escape: he never planned on them being reckless enough to shoot when there was a hostage.

Now, he was home and awaiting the arrival of the woman who would marry him, become queen, and birth his children. He decided that acting ignorant and sympathetic when she got here would benefit him the most but his mother didn't seem to approve. Roan only sighed, moving closer to the ornate wooden chair she was sitting in at the head of the hall.

"Did you hear me? Have we heard anything from Roya?" He asked again, making her eyes lazily consider him.

"I did, and I haven't… she should be here soon…"

"What's the problem? Didn't we do exactly what you wanted?"

"There were witnesses," Nia sighed, glaring down at him. "The Blake boy, some of his friends, and several guards all saw her being taken. Now, the story that she left on her own, isn't valid. We can't use it as a cover which means we have to call in the banners."

"We knew this wouldn't go cleanly," Roan argued, narrowing his eyes at her. "We knew there was a potential for witnesses and we knew that if this happened, we'd have to battle it out both politically and militarily."

"I know that!" she snapped, glaring down at him from the chair. "I'm not worried about war or politics. I'm worried that this Blake child is going to interfere with our plans. Ambassador Syd said there was reason to believe that he and the Griffin heiress were close."

"Her name is Clarke," Roan corrected, making his mother grimace. "And it seems so but he wouldn't put his entire family and Arkadia at risk over the daughter of his enemy. He seemed to have some sort of brains."

"You're sure?" Nia asked. "If he turns on us, on the match with your sister, it will make our task that much more difficult."

"We should focus on Clarke," Roan insisted. "She is more paramount; we need to persuade her to see the benefits of this match. We have to convince her to commit to our plan."

"You can try and convince her if you like but if she agrees, I will trust her even less than I already do," Nia admitted. "Turning on her own people, being so reckless with her oaths, is not the kind of bride I want for my son."

"Then we should have killed Bellamy Blake," Roan insisted, his eyes narrowed. "Eliminate the threat, give Clarke no other option, and conquer their lands. It's the cleaner way to do it."

"Brute force, outright battle, is not clean," Nia warned, glaring over at him. "You spoke of avoiding war but making Bellamy Blake our enemy is the best way to get into one."

"Then we'll convince Clarke," Roan shrugged. "I saw the way she was, the way she acted when he was around. She'd do anything to protect him."

"Then that is our angle," Nia smirked, standing up. Roan turned to the stairway leading down to the dungeons when a man emerged, still in riding gear and sweating from the haste he was using. He bowed low when he spotted them and then approached, his eyes framed in dark bags.

"Roya and her company have just arrived," the man breathed, gaining his composure. "They are three men short, including Senest, the healer. They went down in battle. Also, Roya is injured as well as the Griffin woman. Stray bullets in the escape."

"Call Ontari and tell her to tend to Roya," Nia commanded, her voice full of anger. "And get that Griffin girl in a cell!"

"Oh, that's a great way to start off," Roan interrupted, gaining a look of disbelief from the messenger. "Is she fatally injured?"

"A shot through the leg," the man replied. "She tended to it herself."

"Bring her to the palace," Roan said, before his mother could interrupt. "She'll stay in my chambers."

Nia glared at him before turning back to the messenger. He averted his eyes in fear before bowing and leaving the same way he came in. Once Nia was sure he was gone she rounded on Roan, slapping him in the face angrily. Roan only stood there, jaw squared as she scowled at him.

"Don't undermine me ever again," she hissed. "Your sister is injured and those Skaikru scum are responsible for it!"

"She knew what she was getting into," Roan growled back. "And she's been through worse. Your anger is misplaced; Clarke will stay with me. It is the only way I can think of to gain her trust."

"Play your little game with her," Nia spat back, turning from him. "But if she doesn't submit, I'll make her wish she'd never been born. I'll kill everyone she loves, ending with that Blake boy. I'll make it slow and painful so she never forgets what happens when you cross Azgeda!"

"You are not Azgeda," Roan challenged, squaring his shoulders and stepping toward her. "I am the rightful King of Azgeda and once I am married, I will take my crown. If you ever hit me again, if you ever betray me, I'll kill you myself."

They locked eyes now and for an icy moment, every breath could be heard. Every muscle taught, each jaw squared defiantly. Blue eyes met one another in an angry and deadly war that was only broken when the noise of footsteps clattered through the hall. Roan immediately broke his gaze, turning to the stairway to the dungeon.

"Play along if you want any of this to work out," Roan warned, glancing at his mother. "If she doesn't trust that I don't want to harm her, this will all be for nothing." Roan then looked over at the men that were making their way up the stairs and into the room. One of them had Clarke cradled in his arms as he climbed, the girl looking positively horrified at where she was. He'd never expected to see that reaction on her face and had to admit that he enjoyed it.

It was a mixture of fear, confusion, and utter hopelessness that pleased Roan to no end. He needed her to be afraid but not of him; thankfully, his mother was already fired-up about Roya and Roan's defiance.

"So, you kidnap her?" Roan asked, his voice full of disbelief. "That will start a war."

"Not necessarily," his mother replied slowly, the tone dark and smooth. "The commander knows he doesn't have the forces or the incentive to protect Delphi and he won't risk turning the Plains Riders against him. He'll buckle and offer what little support he can to Skaikru."

"Arkadia," Roan corrected, his voice stern, a slight smirk on his face. "If one of their own is going to be my queen, I'll honor her heritage."

"Noble," Nia replied, the sarcasm evident in her voice. "A bit too sentimental but if you insist. She's your prisoner, after all."

"She's not a prisoner!" he retorted, stopping all together when the two guards and Clarke reached the hall.

Roan noted how she looked about the hall in awe for a moment before meeting his face. The look there was unmistakable: she was livid, the disgust aimed right at him. Roan wanted to challenge her, to glare back, but he thought better of it, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I see my bride has been injured. What happened?"

"They opened fire on us as we were escaping," the man that had been carrying her spoke. "Everything went exactly as you said it would, my Queen. However, we did not plan on them firing at us with such a valuable hostage."

"I thought I'd heard gunfire as I left the city," Roan commented, locking eyes with Clarke. He could see the confusion and anger swirling in those deep pools and he could also see the disbelief in his story. "Make sure she has a comfortable bed, a warm bath, and have our healers look at that bullet wound. I'll speak with her afterward."

"I'm not some prized pet or toy you can just lock up and take care of," Clarke growled, gaining his mother's attention. "I refuse to resign myself to this fate. I won't marry you, no matter what you do to me."

"She's a feisty one," his mother smirked, moving from the throne to glare down at Clarke. "And what makes you think we need a marriage? Do you think I want some Skaikru child as the next queen of Azgeda?! We don't need a marriage, just children to inherit the Griffin name."

Roan noted the way the color drained form her face and her eyes rolled back into her head. She was going to faint and he almost scowled at his mother for being so intense. However, he was able to reach her in time as her body fell limp, holding her gently in his arms so as not to hurt her.

"She's no good to us dead," Roan ground out, glaring at his mother. He could see Clarke was losing consciousness so he called out for the servants to come help him. It wasn't long before they'd carried Clarke's unconscious body from the hall toward his chambers, Roan rounding on his mother. "Just let me handle her for now. You make sure The Coalition and Skaikru don't send their armies north. If they send an ambassador or a messenger, I want to be the first to know."

"Just get her to agree to the match," Nia replied, turning from him now. "I'll be keeping heavy guards on her until she does."

Roan only sighed as she disappeared from the hall into the adjacent corridor. No doubt she was going to see Roya and Roan almost cursed aloud at his mother. She wasn't making this any easier and Roan began to doubt that she'd have the patience for this kind of plan. He only hoped he'd be able to convince Clarke that this was the best option; though he wasn't opposed to violence, he'd never considered harming her.

He knows she didn't chose this path, that like him, she was forced to decide. What teenage girl wouldn't choose her first love over a diplomatic match? Still, he knew that this match would be the backing he needed to push his mother out of power. With a bride, and the potential to have heirs, he had all he needed to convince the council and warchiefs to crown him king. Once that happened, if Clarke wished it, he'd allow her to leave. A better, more suitable bride would come along for him if Clarke truly felt like this wasn't the right choice. Personally, he didn't care how she felt so long as he became king.

* * *

Clarke awoke with a start, her eyes darting about the room around her. It wasn't her room, or any room she recognized. In fact, she didn't recognize any of this and it frightened her to the point that she tried to spring up out of the hay mattress. It was only when that she felt the unmistakable sting in her leg that she remembered. She was a long way from home, in Azgeda. She'd been kidnapped and forced to come here by Queen Nia and anger immediately welled in her chest. Then, just as quickly as it came, it went, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread.

Clarke observed the room again, trying to stay focused but panic was setting in. The room was quite beautiful, the walls solid wood paneling, stained dark as the ceiling came to a point above the bed. From the ceiling hung an ornate antler chandelier, the candles in it burning low, reflecting off the ceiling and walls of the room. It gave the whole room a faint glow as a candle sat on a bedside stand next to her. She hadn't immediately noticed the small, thick-glassed windows on opposite sides of the room or the low embers of the fireplace. It wasn't a large fireplace, lined with stone and a simple iron grate but it kept the drafty room warm.

Clarke could see it was getting dark out, the sun setting as the wind whipped and moaned outside the windows. She then realized that she wasn't on the ground floor. Though Arkadia had some tall buildings, most of the homes were small apartments fitted into towers to conserve space. The tallest building, the old Ark, housed most of the embassy and official departments so being this high up, in someone's home, was a sight. Even the river, which was at least two hundred yards wide, was below the tall walls of this wooden fortress.

"Glad to see you're awake," came a familiar voice and she jumped, snatching the furs of the bed closer to her. Roan was sitting in a comfortable wooden chair, watching her patiently. She wasn't sure how long he'd been there but obviously he'd been watching over her. "How do you feel? Are you hungry or thirsty?"

He had his hair tied back behind his head, his square jaw and broad nose casting shadows over his face as he watched her. He was much more intimidating than she remembered and she shrunk into the bed, trying her best to stay calm.

"I'm thirsty and hungry," she replied, keeping her voice steady. She didn't want to sound weak; Roan was a hunter and any sign of weakness was her end.

"I'll send for some food," Roan nodded, moving to an odd little ornament on a rope by the door. Her eyes went wide when he pulled on it and a compartment slid open revealing an empty box. He pulled on the ornament again and the box disappeared, falling from view. Roan could see the fascination in her eyes and smirked, nodding at the compartment. "We call it a lift."

"It's a dumbwaiter," Clarke commented, a sort of grimace forming on her face. "Humans used to use these years ago, in big houses to move objects. How did you come up with this technology?"

"My great-great grandfather built this fortress," Roan said, glancing about. "I honestly don't know how he came up with it but we've been using it for years."

Clarke just nodded now, glancing out the window as the last rays of the sun were disappearing. The room was growing steadily darker. Roan moved from the lift, standing over by her bed, a slight smile forming on his face.

"I won't pretend that we're on good terms," Roan confirmed, nodding at her. "I won't pretend like you're happy and I don't expect you to be. In fact, I honestly believe you are trying to desperately plan an escape. Let me be the first to tell you how foolish that would be."

"Why? Because I want freedom?" she responded, the irritation seeping into her voice. "Am I foolish for thinking that my kidnappers are going to hurt me?"

"No, you're foolish to waste your energy on an escape plan," Roan corrected. "Especially in your condition."

Clarke was taken aback by his words, her eyes watching him closely. When he was in Arkadia, he hadn't been nearly this talkative or noble. In fact, she remembered a perfect brute; it'd only just dawned on her that maybe that is what he wanted her to see.

"What do you really want from me?" Clarke questioned, leaning back onto the surprisingly plush pillows. "Don't beat around the bush; tell me what you are really after."

"The same thing I've been after since we met the other night," Roan affirmed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "A marriage."

"And you thought kidnapping me and holding me against my will would accomplish that?" Clarke questioned, the disbelief in her face almost comical. "Is that some sort of romance tactic here in Azgeda? Are you cavemen?"

"Cavemen?" Roan asked, his eyes going wide. "What's a "cavemen"?"

"Never mind," Clarke responded, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation. She shouldn't have expected anything else. "Just tell me what I have to do to get home."

Just then, the rope that held the box had started to move, the weight showing up soon after laden with meats, cooked vegetables, and breads. Clarke could also see a large jug sitting on the tray. Roan stood up and reached the lift in two strides, grabbing the food and drink for her. He brought it over, set it on her lap, and sat back on the edge of the bed, watching her curiously.

"What?" she asked, grabbing the jug. She popped the wooden cork out and began drinking, not expecting the bitter taste of the ale as it slithered down her throat. She hated the heady taste of it but drank anyway, thirst taking hold until half of the jug was gone. She wiped her mouth thankfully before setting the drink down on the night stand, her eyes meeting Roans. He had an amused look on his face as he observed her, unsure if he was sincere or playing his part.

"When we had dinner, you ate very slowly, drank very little, and were very proper," he pointed. "I'm just relieved to see you aren't always like that."

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded, grabbing some bread and eating it hungrily. It was still warm and surprisingly flavorful.

"Ah," he said, nodding his head. "Well, my mother is dead-set on keeping you here until you agree to marry me. Personally, I don't think she'll allow you leave."

"And what about you?" Clarke scoffed, taking a bite of the meat, hoping it was chicken. "Do you just do what your mother says? Aren't you king?"

"Not yet, which is precisely why I can't let you leave either," Roan nodded. "You see, I can't be king without a bride. An Arkadian bride makes the most sense, considering what could be accomplished with an alliance."

"Your people hate mine," Clarke scoffed, shaking her head. "Kidnapping me and forcing me to marry you is only going to make the hatred grow."

"Not if you're willing to say that you came with us willingly," Roan suggested, a slight smirk on his face. His pale blue eyes were sparkling and Clarke wasn't sure if it was because he was amusing himself or if she was really that pathetic. "It would avoid attacks on Arkadian land from my mother as well as any assassination attempts on Bellamy Blake."

"Why would I care about that?" Clarke asked, her voice a little shriller than she'd intended. She knew she'd drawn his attention, knew she'd played right into his hands, but nevertheless, fear began to seep in.

"Because, you love Arkadia, you love your friends and family, but most importantly, you love Bellamy Blake," Roan reasoned, his voice growing more serious with every word. "I don't care who you love, to be honest. You can love Bellamy Blake and it wouldn't bother me one bit. I just need you until I am king. After that, I don't care what you do."

"Is that an offer?" Clarke asked, taking another bite of meat, hungrily munching as she listened to what he had to say.

"My mother wants you as my bride, I need a bride to become king. Once I've become king, if you still want to, you're free to go home. Free to live a life with Bellamy Blake," Roan nodded, looking out the window. "But, if I allow that to happen, you must give me your word that any alliances we form in marriage, will be held after we've separated."

Clarke considered him, entirely ready to call his bluff. No matter how violent Nia was, she wouldn't commit her troops to a slaughter. She wouldn't commit her only son, the future king of Azgeda, to the most powerful family in Arkadia after such a battle. Clarke was sure of it but what she wasn't sure of was Roan's proposal. She could see he was being truthful about wanting to be king and about his mother attempting to assassinate Bellamy. She couldn't tell if he meant what he said about allowing her to leave when the time came.

"And what if I didn't agree? What if I refused to marry you?"

"Then I'd allow my mother and sister to have their way with you until you submitted," Roan affirmed, his eyes dark. "I'd lead my men against Arkadia, kill as many innocent people as it took, until you agreed. All those men, women, and children on your conscience would probably drive you mad. You don't seem like the kind of girl to enjoy bloodshed."

"And if I took my own life," Clarke pressed, fully ready to challenge him.

"Then I'd lure Bellamy here as an exchange," Roan quipped, a satisfied smirk on his face. "I'd lure him here to marry my sister and then make him look at your dead body before driving my sword through his back."

Clarke could only glare at him, entirely put off from her food. She pushed it away and looked out the window, avoiding Roan's gaze. She was about to scream at him, to beg him to see reason, and if possible, to threaten him but she knew it wouldn't work. She could tell that more than anything, he wanted to be king and she was the only way he was going to achieve that goal.

"I don't want it to be this way," Roan admitted, making her look at him. "None of this was my plan and I had hoped you'd go along with the match. I wasn't expecting Bellamy Blake or your tenacity. In fact, I didn't expect anything more than a frightened child so believe me when I say that I don't want this. I just want to be king." He offered her the jug of ale again, motioning for her to take a drink. She did so slowly before handing it back.

"I've waited long enough to take my rightful place as king and I'm asking you to assist me," he affirmed. "Help me overthrow my mother and you'll be free to do as you please. It will also build the friendship that Arkadia and Azgeda desperately need."

"And you can promise me my freedom?" Clarke asked, her eyes narrowed. "You'll promise me Bellamy's safety?"

"I can," he smiled, stretching out his hand. "But I must admit, I had hoped for this very thing. I knew, the moment I saw you around him, that there was something between you. I also had my suspicions that it was all one-sided. That he was just using you for his own gain."

"Like you?" Clarke hissed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Exactly," he nodded. "But I knew that you were selfless enough to allow him to be selfish. Maybe, in time, you'll have a change of heart."

"Maybe you and I should keep this relationship professional," Clarke responded, the irritation overwhelming her. Roan didn't know anything about Bellamy and the more he presumed, the angrier she became. She had been so close to marrying him, to bringing Arkadia together the moment she needed it most. Now, all Clarke wanted to do was see Bellamy one last time. To tell him how she felt before she agreed to this dangerous deception Roan had proposed.

"So, what do you say? Will you help me?"

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice," Clarke replied, the dull ache in her leg only masked by the light-headed feeling she was having thanks to the ale. "What do you need me to do?"

"It's simple," Roan continued, noting the tired look in her eyes. "But we can speak about it tomorrow. Rest for now and I'll come find you in the morning."

Clarke only nodded as he set the tray of food on the nightstand next to her. He bowed with a soft smile before leaving the room, Clarke immediately noticing the ominous click of the lock on the other side. Before she could talk herself out of it, she downed the rest of the ale, the grogginess overtaking her as tears began to leak from her eyes. She was almost positive that the entire situation was hopeless. If she didn't marry Roan, Nia would kill Bellamy and dozens of innocent people. If she did, she had to trust that her Azgeda husband would allow her to become free when he was crowned. If somehow all of this worked out, she'd have to hope that Bellamy still loved her enough to trust her when she returns. She knew how it would look to her people if she agreed to the match but she had very little choice in the matter. She had to fight or accept the fate she was dealt.

* * *

 **So, what did you think? I honestly think it sets up the setting quite beautifully. Please, feel free to leave a review and thanks for all the favorites and likes! You all are amazing.**


	2. Chapter 2: No Escape

**Chapter 2 is out. Rewritten and edited for your reading pleasure! Thanks so much guys! Enjoy and please, R &R! **

* * *

Like he promised, Roan had come back to her room the next morning and explained her role in his coup. He had explained that he had some allies within Azgeda and The Lake People clan that would support his claim. He also clarified that he wasn't entirely sure what his mother and sister were up to. He kept it vague, mostly guesswork, and assured Clarke that her role in his plan was simple. She would seem to be content in her position here. She wouldn't cause waves, go behind his back, or raise his family's suspicions. He promised, which made Clarke feel a little better, that if she complied, he would have no reason to keep her in Azgeda.

However, she hadn't seen Roan again since that day. It'd been almost two weeks since she'd been brought to Azgeda and her leg was healing normally. She'd insisted that she perform what little examinations she could but for the most part, Azgeda's healer was an extra set of hands. She'd cursed at him one day for not having the proper tools and then on the next day he'd come back with a satchel full of their best instruments. Clarke had laid off him after that, knowing that he wasn't trying to harm her and that the poor older man was only doing what he was told.

However, Clarke had started feeling anxious only a couple of days into her imprisonment. She hadn't been outside that room since she'd arrived, the doctor and his assistant had been helping her with everything. At first, she thought that it could be worse but after three days of doing nothing but lounge in bed, it had become maddening. She knew she had to keep busy so she kept constant watch on her leg, exercising it more and more every day. She also took note of the moon phase, position of the stars, and the times of day when she was delivered food and medical care. After a week, it was not enough. She needed something else to keep her occupied. The doctor who attended her occasionally brought dried herbs and old linen to grind and shred for supplies but even this only briefly distracted her from the fact that she was locked in this room.

She'd constantly look out the window, catching glimpses of a war party leaving or entering the city. She'd occasionally spot servants below her window, peasants in the distant square going about their daily walks, and horses slowly lumbering through the narrow and muddy streets. Her favorite sight, however, was right before sundown when a single man would come walking up the main street in the village, a torch in one hand and a hook in the other. He went around pulling lanterns off their catches before replacing the candle within and lighting it. He'd do this up the avenue, taking him at least an hour in total to light, as Clarke counted, 43 lanterns. It lit the market up beautifully and it dazzled in the freshly fallen snows on the nights she was lucky enough to enjoy such a view.

Clarke had admired the beauty of Azgeda, despite the situation she was in. If she could say anything about this place it would be that it was beautiful. The sky was wide open at night from her thick window. She could make out the moon and the brightest stars as the lanterns below flickered in the howling breeze. She could see the distant hills and rises of the mountains to the south if she strained to look. She could also see the west, with its rolling lowlands and forest stretching miles into the pink and orange sunset. This she could admire about Azgeda despite her captivity and the room that seemed to close in around her.

She'd wondered for hours about an escape plan. Reasoned with herself that she could overpower the older physician on the days he was alone. She could sneak from this room, find a window, and climb down to the outer wall of the keep without incident. She even convinced herself that if she had to, she would be able to threaten a servant to lead her outside. It could have worked and she had almost considered bolting from the room one day had it not been for the presence of two guards who were outside the room. She'd gone over almost a dozen options in her head about how to get out of this city when she finally gave up. Realistically, with her injury and her lack of clothing, she'd be frozen or captured within a day. She didn't fear death as much as Queen Nia so the plan started to seem more appealing the more dangerous it got.

Clarke also tortured herself with the thought of what her parents might be thinking. She knew her mother would be beside herself with fear and her father would be angry enough to demand a military intervention. She also knew that both her parents would never give up hope that she was still alive. The thought of her parents waiting for her gave her little comfort in her closed-off tower. She could see her mother's tears and her father's squared jaw already, the heartache they were feeling so keen and real that she'd begun crying almost daily. She felt pathetic, helpless, and utterly alone. This wasn't something she'd ever experience before and couldn't accept it. Her emotions were ever changing in that gilded cage: she'd felt hopeless, sad, longing, anger, betrayal, hatred, bitterness, madness, determination, optimism, anxious, and heartsick all within the same hour.

She also thought about her friends and what they must be doing to try and get her back. She knew they'd be seeking a diplomatic way to get her back but it must have been as hopeless for them as it was for her. She couldn't imagine the entire coalition turning on a fellow clan over her. The risk outweighed the reward and the more she contemplated that, the more desperate she was to see Bellamy. She closed her eyes and saw his staring back at her nightly. She felt his touch when nothing was there and yearned for his embrace to reassure her that all was well. She also became angered with herself when she realized that the thought of Bellamy Blake was the only thing keeping her sane. She knew she was better than that; she may have been a princess but she didn't need some man coming to rescue her.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be her only option. Her only way out of this entire ordeal depended on Roan's word. She cringed at the thought of a prince coming to save her. She couldn't trust him any more than she could trust the rest of his family and that made her desperate to believe him. He had promised Bellamy wouldn't be harmed and that she'd be returned but Clarke doubted Roan could fulfill both promises. She doubted he'd be inclined to. After all, a powerful marriage between Roan and Clarke would destroy Bellamy's family. She didn't know who she was kidding and that familiar depression hung over her like a cloud. She needed to occupy herself some other way and the good doctor could provide. Clarke had petitioned him for almost three whole days before he agreed to bring her some parchment and charcoal pens.

She'd drawn over two dozen pictures after that, allowing them to liter the floor of her room. She'd done some scenery, including her family garden and Azgeda but most of her pictures were portraits. She'd drawn almost everyone by memory and their smiling faces taunted her from the floorboards. Her mother and father embraced and smiled at her as did Finn and Raven. Lexa smirked through those beautifully light eyes and Wells almost radiated off the page with his smile. She'd drawn everyone already, even those she hadn't really been that familiar with. Harper, Monty, Jasper, and Landell all stared up at her as did Octavia, Jon and Kat. The one face that she spent the most time on, that took up the whole page, was Bellamy. She wanted to get every little spec and detail of his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks, and every twitch in each muscle. She wanted to weep the entire time but she didn't dare let herself slip into her own thoughts.

She had considered what Bellamy might be thinking and what he could be doing the entire time she was locked in that room. She'd hoped and prayed that any moment he would burst through that door and tell her she was going home but the image only made her feel worse. She didn't need him to save her but she wanted him to and that weakness, she believed, put her in this situation. She had to do better, she had to be smart and do what needed to be done and thinking of Bellamy only stalled those choices.

At the two-week mark, she could freely walk about her room with little help from a cane or stick but her leg was still tender. She'd been able to limp around and build her strength up but she had been going mad. She'd paced, done a few simple physical exercises, and recited some her favorite sonnets in her head daily. She knew this captivity, this prison, would drive her mad if something didn't change. It was on the fifteenth day that her thoughts were finally interrupted by a knock at the door. She'd secretly hoped it was Bellamy but when a young woman, dressed in dark leather and a woolen tunic entered, she quickly dismissed it. The woman couldn't have been much older than Clarke with long dark hair that was braided and interwoven over her ears and down her back. She looked unfamiliar and Clarke was unsure what to say to this mystery woman.

"I'm Bruni," she announced, bowing slightly to Clarke. "The doctor said your leg is beyond worry so I have been assigned to watch over you."

"You're my jailor?" Clarke questioned, turning back to the window she'd been sitting by. It was almost sunset and she loved the variety of color it offered against the pale white and sharp black contrast of the world around her.

"If that is how you choose to see it," Bruni replied, watching her solemnly.

"How else should I see it?" Clarke asked, glancing over at her. "A vacation?"

"Doesn't matter to me," Bruni admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "I was told to be both your servant and your body guard so keeping an eye on you is part of the job. I don't really care how you feel about me or your situation." She then moved over to the edge of the bed and sat down, staring at Clarke pointedly. Clarke wasn't going to back down and stared right back, Bruni's attitude not dissuading Clarke from her stubbornness. However, Bruni only smiled, nodding her head before leaning back on her elbows.

"Aren't you curious as to why I am here?" Bruni asked, a playful tone in her voice.

"You just told me," Clarke snapped, turning from the girl on her bed. "Now get out."

"Can't do that," Bruni admitted, tilting her head slightly. "You've been summoned to dine with Prince Roan and Princess Roya."

"Summoned?" Clarke growled, glancing over her shoulder. "Like a dog?"

"More like a prisoner," Bruni poked, looking up at the ceiling before looking at the many drawings scattered on the floor. The fire was burning low and the candles were dim but Bruni seemed to be impressed, moving from the bed to pick one up. She stared at it a moment before moving over to the window, leaning against the adjoining wall with a smirk. "Family or friend?" she asked, holding up the picture of Bellamy.

"Neither," Clarke responded, her eyes firmly fixed on the colors of the setting sun. The golden glow was starting to ignite the rest of the room in a radiant orange and Bruni only smirked back at her, shrugging her shoulders.

"Very well," Bruni sighed, moving from the window back toward the bed, throwing the portrait back on the floor. "It's better than all the others so I think I can guess who he was."

"You have no idea who he is," Clarke snapped, glaring over at her. "I'm not going to dinner; now, get out."

"That's not an option," Bruni assured, crossing her arms over her chest. "Aren't you dying to get out of this room? You've been locked in here for two weeks!"

"I refuse to dine with my captors," Clarke ground out, trying to stay focused on the setting sun.

"You've been summoned," Bruni growled back, the seriousness in her tone making Clarke glance at her. "By Prince Roan, your future husband and the future king of Azgeda. This isn't a request."

"You'll have to drag me from this room then because I'm not going to dine with those barbaric-."

Clarke immediately regretted her words because Bruni's hand was around her throat, her other grasping Clarke's wrist tightly. She looked offended, almost livid when she peered down into Clarke's eyes. Bruni's eyes were the most dangerous shade of gold she'd ever seen.

"You'll get off your ass and go or else I will drag you out of this room and down the stairs by your pretty golden locks," Bruni warned, her jaw firmly set. "And there are a lot of stairs."

Clarke glared at her briefly before nodding, Bruni's hand tightening slightly before letting her free. Clarke slowly limped toward the bed as Bruni walked to the door, letting in two younger girls who were dressed in simple gray wool dresses. One was carrying two steaming buckets of water, the other carrying a satchel and a long drape of velvety cloth. Clarke watched them curiously as they set the buckets on the floor and the bag and cloth on the bed before leaving the room again. They returned a few moments later rolling what appeared to be a large drum. When they set it upright, Clarke recognized it as a bathing tub. It looked more like a large wine barrel, slats bound together with wrought iron and what appeared to be simple carvings along the borders.

It was beautiful and Clarke instantly longed to jump inside and soak. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been washed or been able to bathe in a tub. The idea, though simple, gave Clarke the chills and she waited impatiently for the girls to empty the two buckets into the tub before fetching two more each. Once they'd finished, Bruni left the room, remarking that she'd be standing right outside the door. Clarke ignored her though, ready to strip out of the thick itchy linen and wool and soak in the warm steaming water of the tub. Both girls were in the satchel now, one grabbing white rose petals and the other dried lavender and what looked like a milky liquid soap.

Clarke was very grateful for them as they littered the surface of the water with dried lavender, rose petals, and shimmering white liquid. They then stirred the water around with their arms and hands before moving aside to help Clarke undress. The aroma was so relaxing that Clarke couldn't help but tear up. It was the kindest treatment she'd been given since she'd arrived here. The minimal human contact between the doctor and his assistant wasn't enough and today she had felt overloaded. After peeling off the bandages that held her leg in place, Clarke inspected the wound. It wasn't open anymore and a scar had formed where the bullet had penetrated her leg. The bruising was still evident and her skin looked a bit red but there was no heat, a sign that the leg has healed without infection.

She poked at it a bit, wincing at the dull pain of the bruises before pulling her shirt off over her head. She didn't know how long she sat submerged in that tub, the water over her shoulders and her hair falling like a mop over her head. She didn't care that both girls were waiting patiently to wash her. All she knew was that the warm weightlessness of the water embraced her and the smell of lavender and petals overwhelmed her other senses. She was almost euphoric and nearly fell asleep before shaking herself to regain her senses.

Both girls were ready to help but Clarke refused. She washed very slowly and deliberately, being careful not to break skin or rub too hard against her scar. When she finally got to her hair, she was rough and meticulous. She scrubbed her scalp thoroughly underwater before having the two girls help her rinse it out with the remaining bucket of warm water. Clarke didn't take long to wrap herself in the plush linen blanket the girls had brought and before she could stop them, they were combing through her wavy golden hair with gentle ease. Clarke didn't want to admit that it felt good but she'd be lying to herself. The brushes combing through her hair and grazing her scalp felt unbelievably good and at one point she let out a relaxed sigh.

Her hair was still damp and starting to frizz when Bruni came walking back through the door. It wasn't quite dark outside; the fire being started back up by one of the girls as the other lit candles all about the room. Bruni looked confused and stared at Clarke mindlessly before glancing out the window.

"You've been in here over an hour," she pointed, closing the door behind her. "And you're not even dressed!"

"I needed that bath," Clarke admitted, trying to keep her voice calm. "It gave me a few moments of comfort that I took advantage of. I'll get dressed right now."

Bruni just watched her as she shed the blanket and allowed the two younger girls to pull the velvety material of the dress over Clarke's head. She adjusted it carefully before allowing them to tie it in the back. Clarke was honestly stunned at how well the dress fit and how comfortable it was. It was a simple deep blue dress that strapped around her neck and around her waist, allowing her arms and shoulders to be bare. It also showed off her curves and her shoulders which, she guessed, was part of the plan.

It was warm though, going all the way down over her feet. She then spotted the fur half-jacket that went with it and couldn't believe at how beautiful it was. The shawl-like coat was all white, most likely arctic hare, and draped over her shoulders and arms snuggly. She was quite warm now as the girls offered her the choice of two pairs of shoes. Both were simple flats but one was lined with fur. Clarke couldn't help but choose them, slipping her cold toes into them with relief. The drafty room, even with the relit fire, was still cold on her feet.

"I'm going to escort you to princess Roya's rooms," Bruni announced, offering for Clarke to follow her out the door. "I wouldn't try to run or walk slow. We're already late."

"I'm starving," Clarke commented, trying to make light of the situation. "What's for dinner?"

"I don't know," Bruni said, glancing at Clarke curiously over her shoulder as they entered the hallway.

This was the first time that Clarke had been outside the room since she'd arrived in it. In fact, she hadn't seen any of the palace except the dining hall and her room which made her wonder just how large this fortress was. As they walked down the narrow corridor, Clarke noticed that the candelabras on the wall all had reflective metal backings that bounced the light all about the corridor. She also noticed that the only windows in the corridor were up high and thin, paned with thicker glass than her own room.

It was a simple hallway, lined with wooden panels and what appeared to be some sort of patterned tapestry. The colors were dull and the pattern was bland but when the entered the staircase at the end of the hall, Clarke was stunned. It was lined, all the way down, with high rounded windows framed in iron and glass. There were carved patterns around the windowsills as well; wolves, intertwining evergreens, and decorative patterns carved out of dark wood framing the whitewashed walls. Clarke admired it as it reminded her of the old baroque rococo designs of the past that she'd admired growing up as a child. The guild-hall was fashioned after this in Arkadia and Clarke couldn't help but blink back the moisture in her eyes at the memory.

When they'd descended the stairs, Clarke making sure not to put too much strain on her bruised leg, they entered a wide but shallow room. There were doors to either side of her and a door on the wall in front of her which made her curious. The room itself was littered with a few small tables, some benches, chairs, and cushions but it also had a few mounted heads, some straw on the floor, and a simple antler chandelier with a few small candles. There were a few plainly dressed people, in Azgeda furs and leather, sitting at the tables, talking and drinking. Clarke didn't know what this room was for but the scuffmarks on the floor, puddles of water, and laughter suggested it was used as a gambling hall for the palace guards.

Bruni lead Clarke to the door on the left and opened it, motioning for her to follow as they entered another wide but shallow room. It was much better kept than the previous one and had a wall of windows directly on the right. There was a matching door directly across from the one they'd just entered through and the other was on the far wall. This room was ornate and Clarke only had a brief time to marvel at the carved windowsills and ornate ceiling frescos and carvings before being whisked through the doorway opposite the one they had entered through.

This was a thin but long room that stretched into the center of the palace. A framed archway with sanded wooden columns and a carved scene marked the entrance to what Clarke only assumed was the dining hall where she'd first arrived. She made a mental note, looking at the carving above the doorway as they approached. The room was well lit, with a wall of windows like the previous room and Clarke could clearly see the carving. It was two stags who were locked together in battle, nostrils flared and eyes wide. It was almost frightening how realistic the carving was, Clarke's eyes immediately scanning the rest of the room as they walked closer to the archway.

The room was simply outlined around the bottom, divided between wooden panels and detailed rococo designs on top of stained plaster walls. It also had a large stone and iron fireplace along the opposite wall of the one they had entered through. It housed plush benches and comfortable chairs and Clarke also noticed the many furs strung up on the walls. There were a few mounted heads of stags, boars, and elk but the most interesting one, to Clarke, was the head hanging over the fireplace. It had a huge rack of antlers and a massive long snout. Clarke remembers seeing these in the old Ark files at the embassy and smiled at how large moose really were.

"Roan's grandfather killed it during his crowning games," Bruni commented, looking back at Clarke as she admired the moose. "Nothing but a spear and a knife the legend says."

"It's massive," Clarke commented, admiring the scenic paintings that flanked it over the dull gray fireplace. Bruni motioned for her to follow, after a moment, and they went through another smaller doorframe that lead into a large open corridor. Clarke kept up as Bruni guided her along the corridor to the open archway on their right. It led out into the massive room housing an ornate wooden staircase. It was a simple room that featured a gallery above where the staircases intersected into a "T". Clarke admired the decoration of the wooden rails, scenes of battle and hunts framing the elegantly carved staircase as it climbed up to a landing that branched into two opposite staircases. Bruni took the one on the left and when they crested the stairs, Clarke could see that the long gallery stretched from the staircase to the dining hall. There were doors leading off it and light pouring in from the last rays of the sun above the dining hall but the candles casted shadows. It looked spooky but Bruni lead the way as they turned to the right, away from the overlooking gallery and into another corridor. This corridor was darker, candles on the wall reflecting the golden light as they passed by a couple of double doors. Above only a couple of chandeliers made of bone and antler were lit, casting a dull light over them as they approached another set of double doors.

Clarke was about to ask where they were when Roan appeared out of the shadow of the doorframe. He was wearing a long pair of loose linen slacks and a vest of leather and white fur. Clarke admired the simple attire for a moment, noting that it matched hers. Roan, however, didn't hide his interest as he looked her over.

"I knew it would fit," Roan nodded, looking over at Bruni. "Go, eat, come back and wait. If I need to, I'll send for you."

Bruni only nodded, her jaw tight as she disappeared down the dark corridor, the candles reflecting off her pale skin like a ghost as she passed. Clarke watched her leave, only looking up at Roan after she was completely gone. Clarke hadn't noticed that he had moved closer, looking down at her intensely. She wondered what it could be when he suddenly pulled something out of his vest pocket. It was a simple trinket, carved into the shape of a many-petalled flower. It had teeth so it could be used to hold hair or adorn a hairpiece, the little details not escaping her as she gazed down at it. Roan only nodded, offering it up to her again until he finally handed it to Clarke.

"It's meant to be the first betrothal gift, from husband to wife," he commented, keeping his voice casual, almost uninterested. "It is expected of me to present you with a carved gift and I chose a hairpiece."

"Why a hairpiece?" Clarke questioned, admiring the little details and rounded edges in the dim candlelight.

"Because of your hair," he commented, as a matter of fact. "Look at it."

Clarke glared up at him now, moving her hands to tousle the unruly golden curls and frizz. She didn't think it was that bad but when a slight grimace formed on Roan's face, she raised an eyebrow. "What is wrong with my hair?" Clarke asked, her eyes narrowed.

"That's not what I meant," Roan insisted, taking the hairpiece quickly. He then pushed a large portion of her hair back from her face and over her ear, pinning it in place. She couldn't help the blush that formed or how seriously he observed Clarke's appearance. "Your hair is beautiful," Roan commented, looking her over now. "But I can't see your face."

"Oh," Clarke replied, her voice small as he stared down at her. He then smirked, nodding at the door. "Come, my sister is waiting to dine with us. She wants to meet you properly."

"Why did you keep me locked up?" Clarke asked, not really meaning to say it out loud. Roan only looked at her calmly, his eyes roaming over her face until they met her questioning gaze.

"I didn't keep you locked up," Roan replied, turning toward the door now. He offered his arm casually and Clarke took it, swallowing the butterflies and dread that welled in her throat. "You were injured and needed rest so, I gave it to you."

"I was going mad locked in that damn room," Clarke hissed, glaring up at him. "I didn't know if I'd be poisoned or stabbed in my sleep! I didn't even know if I'd ever leave that room again…"

"But here you are, about to dine with your fiancé and his sister," Roan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He then pulled her slightly closer, watching her face for a moment before smiling. "You're not confined to your room anymore."

"But I'm still your prisoner?" Clarke pushed, her eyes darting from him to the door and hen back.

"Technically," he responded, squeezing her arm between his forearm and torso. "But we have a deal. Don't forget your part and I won't forget mine."

Before she could protest, Roan had pushed the double doors open before them, flooding the dim corridor with light. As Clarke's eyes adjusted, Roan pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind them with a snap. Clarke was almost stunned at how bright it was in this room, the fireplace along the wall massive and blazing. Clarke could feel the heat coming off it from the door and looked about the décor curiously. It was a simply adorned room, plastered and whitewashed except for the wall surrounding the large stone fireplace. That wall was made of wood paneling, mounted heads of wolves, boars, and stags surrounding the mantel as dead eyes stared over the chamber.

In the middle, surrounded by plush benches, was a low table laden with silver tableware and glasses. At the center were trays, covered with bronze and silver toppers, and a beautiful arrangement of white roses. Candles had been placed all about the table but that wasn't it. Above the table, illuminating the whole room, was a large chandelier lined with at least twenty candles. They were newly placed, reflecting off the polished gold and silver ceiling tiles giving the entire ceiling an enchanting glow. Clarke was stunned at how simple but beautiful the room was and Roan must have noticed because he squeezed her arm again, gaining her attention.

"This is my sister's prescience chamber," Roan assured, letting go of her arm and moving toward the curtained doorway that lead deeper into the suite. "Roya!?"

"Yeah!" she replied immediately and Roan smirked, shaking his head.

"She'll be out in a minute," he nodded. "You must be thirsty though; sit." He moved over to the table, motioning for her to sit on the plush bench and get comfortable. She complied, glancing at the soft furs that lined the floor under the bench, the warmth emanating from the fire relaxing her weary muscles. This is the most she'd moved in the past two weeks and she felt weak already. "You're pale," Roan commented, pouring her a glass of water from one of the pitchers on the table. "Drink."

Clarke did so, taking a deep breath before regaining her composure, her leg aching slightly as she sat there. She took another drink and glanced over at the doorway before looking up at Roan.

"I'll be fine," Clarke assured, smiling up at him meekly. "It's just fatigue from being cooped up so long." She noted the look of irritation he shot her and she couldn't help but smirk back at him.

"I see you two are getting along," Roya commented, emerging from behind the drapes of the doorway. She was wearing a simple black tunic and matching black leggings. She smiled at her brother before sitting down across from Clarke. She poured herself some wine before turning to Clarke with a rigid but polite smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Clarke admitted, staring into her light blue eyes. "Pretty hungry, to be honest."

"Good!" Roya nodded, taking a large drink from her cup. "Then let's eat. Sit down Roan, your making me nervous."

"Aren't you always nervous?" Roan commented, plopping down on the bench next to Clarke. He poured himself some wine while Roya chuckled, raising her glass.

"It's wise to be cautious," Roya nodded, bringing the cup up to her lips. She then looked back at Clarke, a twinkle in her eyes. "Never know who might come after me."

"Who indeed," Roan murmured, pulling the covers off the silver trays. Inside was some steaming fish, a roasted bird, and a large bowl of what looked like creamed potatoes. Clarke liked the smell, the spices unfamiliar to her; it was much better than the soup, breads, and very heady ale she'd been digesting. She couldn't wait to try the savory smelling roasted bird. She was also curious about the fish, never seeing such a large one before. She waited for Roya to get a portion before she loaded her plate up with a little of each dish.

She didn't really care for decorum at that moment. She was entirely too hungry for something other than liquids and the scent of the cooked meat almost sent her into a frenzy. She could see Roan wasn't holding back either, eating quickly and quietly, his eyes occasionally glancing over at her as she enjoyed her food. Roya, however, was observing them closely, sipping her wine and picking at her meat.

"You aren't even worried that it might be poisoned?" Roya finally spoke, making both Roan and Clarke stop, their eyes firmly on the dark-haired woman in front of them. "You didn't even check the drinks either."

"Is it poisoned?" Roan asked, his tone nonchalant.

"No," Roya shrugged, sipping her wine again.

"You'd be stupid to poison your own table," Roan huffed, taking a large gulp of his wine.

"It'd be the perfect crime," Roya noted, looking over at Clarke. "Poisoning you two and almost poisoning myself would be a good cover."

"Foolish," Roan replied, eating another mouthful of fish. "To attempt murder and fail."

"I wouldn't poison you, brother," Roya assured, a light tone to her voice, almost sing-song. "Or your new woman."

"The meal is delicious," Clarke said before taking a sip of her drink. "Thank you, princess."

"I prefer highness," Roya smirked, her eyes landing on Clarke. "But your title is what we must debate, isn't it?"

"Title?" Clarke asked, her eyes going slightly wide. "Oh no, I don't need- "

"Of course, you do!" Roya chimed, shaking her head. "You're to be the future Queen of Azgeda but that doesn't really roll of the tongue, does it?" She took another sip of her wine now, watching Clarke closely. Clarke couldn't help but feel like any moment her head might be mounted on that wall next to the boars and stags.

"What do you propose?" Clarke asked, her voice steady as she picked at another piece of meat.

"Well, princess isn't really accurate given that you aren't technically royalty," Roya began, a grimace on her face. "And we can't expect you to be called royal fiancé or future queen or something tacky like that. It wouldn't be appropriate but we need something suitable to your station. After all, blood members of the royal family maintain the title of highness or majesty."

"It's all silly," Roan murmured between bites. "She'll be queen, let's just leave it at that."

"It's not good enough," Roya sighed, shaking her head. "He's impossible, really. Roan would prefer to ignore the day-to-day minutia of protocol and title and just have everyone calling each other by their first names. It's all very common and entirely unexpected from the royal family."

"Simple and less time consuming," Roan shrugged.

"But still, Clarke needs a title befitting her station. She isn't the first lady at the court, since that title is given to our mother. Then behind her is myself, cousin Niara, and then we have some second and third cousins I believe, don't we?" Roya smirked at this, waving her hand. "But never mind that. We need a title that suits you. If you were an Azgeda citizen you'd be the daughter of an earl. So, how about we call her royal cousin? It is both simple and illustrious but it also sets you in your own little category. What do you think?"

"So, I'm marrying my cousin?" Roan asked, glancing up at Roya.

"No, royal cousin as in she is fellow royalty and therefore, that makes you cousins," Roya sighed, shaking her head. "That's a bit confusing I suppose…"

"Everything about this conversation is confusing," Roan sighed, looking down at Clarke now. "Why are you being so quiet tonight?"

Clarke was so thrown off by this sudden change of subject that she'd almost stared back at him with baffled disbelief. She just shrugged meekly, looking at her plate intently before picking up her glass of wine. She drank from it slowly before looking back of at Roan to find that he hadn't looked away.

"I'm not sure what to say, what the protocol is for all of this…"

"Nonsense!" Roya said, waving her hand. "You're going to be family and our home is your home. Our food is your food and our conversations, especially when Roan is around, are all inclusive."

"I… I'm really n-not used to – "

"She's nervous and tired, Roya," Roan said, watching Clarke's face. "She's not exactly comfortable around us yet. After all, we did kidnap her." Roan shot his sister a pointed look before turning back to Clarke. "She just needs time to adjust."

"That's right," Roya breathed, as if she had forgotten. "Well, that's why our royal cousin is so quiet. She doesn't know whether we're going to torture her, murder her, or both!" Roya laughed at this, shaking her head before downing the rest of her wine and refilling it. Roan only sighed, turning back to his meal to finish off the second helping he'd piled onto his plate already.

"Enough of that," Roan said, taking a drink of wine. "Just be your usual cheerful and charming self. That should make her more comfortable." Clarke didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone or the way he moved slightly closer to her.

"Right," Roya nodded, leaning back on the bench with her cup. She propped herself on her elbow now and looked over at Clarke, curiously, seeming to take in every feature. Clarke took a nervous drink of her wine to try and calm herself but that only made it worse. She felt light-headed and immediately took a few deep breaths to steady herself on the bench. For a moment she suspected poison but realized there was no way to single out her food specifically. Roya must have noticed her discomfort because she looked over at the fireplace, her light blue eyes glimmering with orange and silver.

"You may think you have something to fear from me but I assure you, it's not true," Roya offered, her voice calm, almost businesslike. Clarke noticed the change in tone and demeanor and wondered if this was all a game to Roya. She wondered if Roya even cared one way or the other, her cold stare firmly focused on the fire dancing in the hearth. "I'm a reasonable woman with reasonable expectations. I don't expect you to be happy about your situation and to be honest, I thought you'd be angrier."

"No point in being angry," Clarke replied, her voice soft. "It won't do any good."

"Good attitude," Roya commented, sipping her wine again. "And I don't expect you to just give up and go through with this match either."

"No point in fighting that either," Clarke admitted. "At least here, I will be Queen."

"So, you're interested in titles, money, and power?" Roya questioned, looking over at Clarke. "You didn't strike me as a power-hungry social climber when we first met."

"And you didn't strike me as calm, cool, and collected but here we are, having a reasonable conversation," Clarke replied, watching Roya's eyes light up at the challenge Clarke was presenting.

"Feisty and smart," Roya commented, glancing at Roan. "At least one of you is."

"I appreciate a good conversation," Clarke commented, her tone lighter now, her voice even. "So, tell me more about Azgeda. This is my first visit after all and so far, I'm not a big fan of the service."

"You're cheeky," Roya chuckled, glancing back at the fire. "Are you telling me you don't like our rustic charm?"

"The charm is nice," Clarke admitted, gazing at the fire as well. "Who built this fortress?"

"Our great-great grandfather," Roya replied, motioning aimlessly. "Rahlan, King of Azgeda."

"Was this always your country's capital?"

"No, Rahlan built the fortress here first and the city sprung up around it," Roya smiled, looking over at Clarke.

"Who makes the rules here?" Clarke asked, pushing a little further. She wanted to know everything she could, even if it did raise suspicion. "I mean, in Arkadia the council decides so it is like the coalition without a commander. Does Azgeda have something like that?"

"The monarch has absolute control over the military and courts," Roya smirked. "If you can call it court."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually people don't commit crimes here," Roya nodded, a sly grin spreading over her lips. "Most of them are petty squabbles between citizens or settlements over land and resources. We settle that with trades, public floggings, or sometimes stoning. Anything more serious will send you to the hangman. We have a zero-tolerance policy for thieves, spies, rapists, deserters, arsonists, and murderers."

"Don't forget tax-dodgers, reformers, and foreigners," Roan commented, finishing another cup of wine.

"Only when they've committed a crime," Roya chuckled, glancing at Roan. "But we don't get many foreigners."

"I can't imagine why," Clarke smirked, taking a drink of her wine. "So, you're a war chief, aren't you?"

"I am," she nodded, looking back at the fireplace. "I am the Warlord of Revhala, our southernmost region."

"And how many regions are there?"

"Four," Roya replied, smirking over her cup as she took another drink. "Nihrdelan in the north, Wistera in the west, Revhala in the south, and Estellan in the east."

"And you govern or…?"

"I govern, I enforce laws, drafts for the military, and many other time-consuming tasks," Roya pointed, turning from the fire and looking directly at Clarke. "Are you going to be asking these kinds of questions all night or…?"

"Sorry," Clarke nodded, setting her cup down. "It's just that Azgeda is so different and if I am to be Queen, I should at least know the basics."

"At least you aren't fighting it," Roya smirked, leaning back against the bench again. "You seem content with us and that, as you can understand, makes me suspicious."

"I've been locked in a small room for the past two weeks without any decent conversation," Clarke shot back, picking up her drink again. "Fighting is just a waste of what little time I may have left."

"You're not going to die," Roya assured, waving at Clarke over her wine. "What would be the point of risking my own life, and the lives of my warriors, to bring you back to Azgeda only to kill you?"

"What's the point of keeping a teenage girl with a fractured leg locked up in a tower for two weeks?" Clarke asked, her tone a little sharper than she'd intended.

"Recovery," Roan replied, glancing over at her as he finished his ale. "You'll have more freedom soon."

"Freedom to return to my home?" Clarke had become impatient and uninterested in both Roya and Roan's threats.

"So, you've not given up the fight entirely," Roya replied, watching Clarke bemusedly.

"I've been shuffled into a dark room like I have some sort of plague," Clarke remarked, her voice even. "I've been abducted and forced to live far from my home with people who may or may not want me dead. I am entitled to know exactly what my role is here and what, if anything, I can expect from your family; I am not being unreasonable."

"Be quiet," Roan groaned, rolling his eyes at Clarke before refilling both of their cups. "This is not the time or place to start complaining about how you've been treated and what you are owed."

"If not now, then when?" Clarke retorted, her eyes narrowed on him.

"She wants to know our plan," Roya interrupted, smirking at Roan. Her voice was playful but she was not smiling.

Clarke looked between them both slowly before taking her cup, drinking half of it in one swallow. She wasn't sure if it was because she was stupid or if she needed some liquid courage. Either way, she wasn't going to stop pushing the matter until she knew exactly what was expected. Even Roan's plans of betrayal and protection weren't enough to silence her fears and suspicion.

"You're such a pathetic child," Roya sighed, glaring over at Clarke with annoyance. "You want to know your place? What is expected of you? Then shut up and listen."

"Roya…" Roan warned, his eyes glancing between the two women.

"Your place is here, in this castle, where you will remain for the rest of your pampered life," Roya chided, leaning back in her seat. "You'll be crowned queen and have plenty of children to keep you company as you grow old. You'll have power, influence, and perhaps you'll be able to protect your precious Arkadia. You'll have all of this and be content with the knowledge that your children will all be royalty; always protected and always cared for."

"And I am supposed to believe you?" Clarke questioned, her eyes wide.

"In exchange for this gracious gift," Roya continued, as if she hadn't heard Clarke's question. "You'll be silent, you'll be obedient, and you will say thank you for such an opportunity."

"And if I don't?" Clarke questioned, her jaw squared. The room had gone silent for a moment, both women glaring at one another across the table.

"Then I'll lock you in that room and send my army south to wipe out every single Arkadian I can find," Roya cautioned, a smirk growing on her face. "I'll leave behind nothing but burning earth and smoking ruins in my path. I'll batter down the gates of Arkadia, string up everyone you hold dear, and send them to you in your little room, piece by piece until you go mad with grief. Then, I'll feed you and every Arkadian woman I find to my army." Her voice had risen now, her tone dangerous and her conviction written in her eyes.

"The only thing that will be left of Arkadia will be the bastards born from my soldiers as they trample your proud walled-city into the dirt from which it has risen," Roya spat, standing from the bench now. "And then, when all of this is done, I'll cut off that pretty blonde hair for myself and mount that pretty head of yours on the walls of this very fort as a warning for our enemies."

"You'd speak to the future queen like this?" Roan asked, gaining Roya's attention as she tore her gaze away from Clarke's horrified face.

"She's not queen yet," Roya spat, turning from the table. "You'd do well to rein in your bride, brother. If she'd have said such things to our mother, she'd be dead already."

"Now who is being unreasonable?" Roan commented, standing from the table. He then turned to Clarke, a look of disappointment and annoyance written all over his face. "Come on, let's go." He then reached down, grabbed her wrist firmly, and almost pulled her out of her seat. She glared at him for a moment before shuffling to follow, the room silent as the two of them crossed to the door.

When it was firmly shut behind them, the hallway still dark from the fading candles, Roan squeezed her arm, gaining her attention. She looked up at him only to discover that his face was much too close to hers. She could feel his breath on her cheeks, the intensity of his light blue eyes shining in the limited lighting. Clarke felt her breath hitch in her throat as he looked at her, that familiar fear turning her stomach uncomfortably.

"I warned you," Roan whispered, the tone of his voice hinting at the frustration growing inside him. "I warned you that my mother and sister were the real danger but you didn't listen to me at all. You didn't even try to control yourself…"

"You expected me to just sit there and let her dictate my future to me?" Clarke snapped, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp. "Are you insane?"

"Follow me," Roan grunted, loosening his grip only slightly as he turned from her.

"Why should I?" Clarke spat, pulling her arm from his grip "So you can lock me up again?"

In one swift movement Clarke was off her feet, a startled gasp escaping her lips as Roan's arm wrapped around her hips. He had lifted her over his shoulder and was caring her like a sack of flour down the corridor. Clarke struggled for a moment, trying to wiggle out of his grip but he quickly patted her injured leg with his other hand, halting her immediately.

"Relax," he said, leading her back to the staircase and gallery she'd come from earlier that night. "I just need to talk to you and I can't do it here."

"I can walk, you know!" she squeaked, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't help the embarrassment that had welled in both her chest and cheeks. She could feel them burning as his chest vibrated with what she only assumed was a chuckle.

"It's a long way and there are some stairs," Roan commented, his hand resting dangerously close to her backside.

"P-please," Clare almost begged, her hands pushing on his shoulders so she could glimpse his face.

"I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable," Roan replied, his hand moving down her leg. "This is just faster."

"I'm slung over your shoulder like a fresh kill!" Clarke hissed, making him chuckle again. "Please, at least let me adjust myself."

Roan paused now, the gallery overlooking the vast dining hall below was better lit than the corridor. He pulled her down from being bent over his shoulder and allowed her to stand on her feet. She glanced up at him sheepishly before adjusting the dress and wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her effortlessly and they walked in silence along the gallery, Clarke trying to focus on her surroundings as he held her uncomfortably close.

"Where are we going?" Clarke asked when they had entered a narrow corridor, the gallery disappearing behind them. Clarke looked about, the corridor lined on one side with tall rounded windows and wood paneling.

"My rooms," he replied, his voice even as they emerged from the corridor into an open and inviting room. There was a large fireplace on one wall and the floors were littered with fur rugs and woven mats. It had plush benches with large cushions and a couple of small tables that held candlesticks and what looked like game pieces. It was the most welcoming and comfortable room Clarke had been in so far and she wondered if it was ever used.

Roan didn't say anything as the crossed the room toward an archway that lead into another adjoining corridor. This one had no windows and only a few candles, the darkness of it making Clarke slightly uneasy. She couldn't help but tense up as they passed by a few darkened doorways and a few broken panels. Roan must have noticed because his grip tightened slightly as he walked, stopping short of the staircase ahead of them that lead up into the darkness of another upper floor.

"I prefer my privacy," Roan admitted, turning to look at her. "You have nothing to worry about."

Clarke only nodded as they made their way up the stairs, the effort almost unrecognized by Roan as they crested the last stair. At the top was a corridor leading both ways and Clarke took note of Roan's left turn, glancing over the wide and elegantly decorated details as he stopped in front of a door. Clarke gently slid from his arms as he set her on her feet, pulling a key from his pocket and turning it in the lock.

He pushed the door in slowly and moved aside, allowing Clarke to enter first. The room was bright, not as bright as Roya's but the white antler and bone chandelier hanging from the ceiling had over a dozen candles. The walls were covered in tapestries that depicted forest scenes and a large simple stone fireplace stood opposite the door Roan had just shut behind them.

"It's not as nice as some of the other rooms in the palace," Roan admitted, moving to throw more wood on the low flames. "But it's comfortable."

"It looks comfortable," Clarke assured, looking over the plush couches and cushions covered in furs and linens. Clarke also noticed the short but long table that sat in the center of them. It was ornately carved and polished with rutting deer carved into the legs. She sat down on one of the plush couches just as Roan finished stoking the fire, sinking into the cushions comfortably.

"So," Clarke drawled, watching him as he moved to sit on the couch to her right. "What did you want to discuss?"

"That was stupid," Roan replied, watching her calmly. "Challenging my sister is only going to anger my mother and that wrath you do not want."

"And I'm supposed to believe every word she said?" Clarke questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Roan sighed, massaging his neck before closing his eyes in exasperation. "Lying is in her nature but challenging her, while my mother is still in power, is not a wise move."

"And staying silent and accepting her plans is?"

"Much wiser than provoking her," Roan assured, looking at her again. "Do you not understand the position we are both in?"

"I don't think it will matter either way," Clarke sighed, shaking her head defiantly. "If they want me dead, they will find a way."

"Still, riling her up is not in your best interest," Roan smirked, looking over at the fire. "Take my word for it."

"Your word?" Clarke scoffed, looking over at the fire as well.

"I'm good to my word," Roan shot back, meeting her eyes. "Even if you don't believe me. Just tread lightly from here on. I can't have you dying before I've made my move."

"I'm grateful for your concern," Clarke mumbled, moving to stand. "Can I go now?"

"You'll stay here from now on," Roan said, standing as well. "It is customary for the future king and queen to share the same bed the season before the wedding. Since this was short notice, the next few months will have to be enough."

"Are you joking?" Clarke laughed, shaking her head. "I won't share your bed, no matter what the tradition is."

"You don't have to," Roan growled, turning from her and walking toward a door on his right. "You'll take my bed and I'll stay next door in the solarium."

"Solarium?" Clarke questioned, glancing at the door he was about to open. She couldn't help the curiosity that started bouncing around her mind, never having been in a solarium before.

"Come," Roan nodded, opening the plain wooden door. Clarke followed him slowly into the next room and was amazed at the sight before her. The room was rounded on one side with a plush wooden bench that curved with it. Above the bench, set neatly in rows, were tall rectangular windows that looked over the entire city. Rooftops stretched out in the dark and cast shadows over the lighted avenues below as the waxing moon shone over the distant evergreens and hills. Clarke didn't want to tear her eyes away but the view above her was even more spectacular. Three glass windows stretched across the ceiling and revealed the night sky in all its glory. Clarke had almost forgotten where she was, marveling at the thousands of stars above her.

"It's dark here in the winter," Roan explained, moving to the opposite side of the room. Clarke didn't even notice that he had already pulled his top off and was pouring himself a glass of ale. "We have fewer hours of sunlight so the solarium takes advantage of them."

"It's a beautiful view," Clarke replied, turning from the view now to spot the shirtless prince. She quickly looked away, turning back to the city that sprawled out before her. She noticed that they were higher up than her old room and she wondered if there were any other rooms on a higher floor than this.

"You should get some sleep," Roan insisted, moving to stand next to her. Clarke had noticed that he stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. It was almost comforting and she immediately dismissed it, turning to him with a simple smile.

"I will," she assured, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you for the meal and the new room. It is much more spacious than the last."

"If you need anything, I'll be here," he smiled back, nodding for her to go. "The bedchamber is the room beyond the fireplace. It's spacious and warm. Guards will be on watch outside my chamber so stay in the suite. If you need a bathroom, there is a privy chamber just off the bedroom. It's clean." He noted the look of relief on her face. "Now go, it's late." She didn't need telling twice, exiting the room with a snap of the door.

* * *

"Don't get too cocky!" Lincoln yelled, barely missing Bellamy with his sword as they moved around one another, ready to clash again.

Bellamy only nodded, the clanging of swords echoing about them as they scuffled across the sand. The practice arena was empty that morning, the sun barely risen when Bellamy arrived. It had been two hours since then and he had not beaten Lincoln once. They'd battled with axes, maces, spears, and swords and yet Bellamy could not beat him. For a week he's been meeting up with his former teacher to practice and every day he lost. It was starting to frustrate him and the harder he fought, the more he fumbled.

"Your head isn't in this!" Lincoln yelled, shoving Bellamy to his knees, the dirt billowing in a great cloud as he fell to his side. "Let's stop, take a break."

"No," Bellamy assured, springing to his feet. "Keep going."

"We've been at it for hours," Lincoln replied, lowering his sword. "Take a break."

Bellamy only groaned, lowering his sword and moving toward the doorway directly behind him. He ignored Lincoln's calls and questions as he entered the corridor under the stands. It led down into a cool, dark room beneath the many benches that housed the sparring gear. Bellamy's discarded shirt and his flask of ale sat poised on a bench. He picked them both up, slinging the shirt over his shoulder lazily before taking a drink. He ran his hand through his hair before moving to the trickling fountain in the corner of the room, capping his flask.

After splashing his face and cooling off the back of his neck, he took a large gulp from the clear spring, gasping for air afterward. He hadn't realized how warm it had become that morning, the breeze almost sticky with heat. He took a large gulp from his flask now, the buzz from the entire bottle earlier that morning still swimming in his head. He'd been drinking a lot more lately, the failed search for Clarke and the Azgeda warriors who took her driving him to the edge of madness only a week ago.

He'd searched for days, endlessly, some nights without sleep. He'd rounded up a search party of almost 100 soldiers and guards to comb the countryside for any trace of the abductors but came up emptyhanded. They had managed to make it north, across their border and into Azgeda territory which, to Bellamy's frustration and anger, they knew little about. They'd travelled entirely too far into Azgeda territory and in the process, lost almost half their number to traps, misdirection, and Azgeda scouts. Bellamy wasn't afraid to admit that after such an ordeal, he was a broken man.

The pain, which had been unbearable, had been numbed by the excessive amounts of alcohol and drugs his friends had been happy enough to provide. Since he'd returned, he hadn't been home either. Jon had allowed him to stay in one of his properties, Bellamy's resolve to avoid the shame associated with his family the only sober decision he's made in the past week. His father had been arrested, charged, and put on house arrest indefinitely, the council deciding to spare him his life due to previous services to Arkadia. The shame, however, was not forgiven; the whole of the city was outraged at his father's involvement in Clarke's abduction.

He'd confessed to working with Azgeda and had received leniency but the dishonor it brought upon both Octavia and Bellamy was inescapable. Business had suffered, many of their clients and deals starting to slow down or fall through all together. Some shops, factories, and even some of the houses that the Blake's rented out had become abandoned over the past week and most of their former allies had refused to continue doing business.

It was only because Jon, Monty, and Harper pulled strings to maintain the Blake manufacturing business that they weren't completely unraveled. Bellamy's only concern, at this point, was the welfare of his sister and how he would create a comfortable future for her. Bellamy had become distracted by this thought daily, in quiet moments when his mind wasn't tortured by Clarke's disappearance. Moments like these, when the alcohol had control of his mind, were when he would dwell on what could have been and what was meant to be. It stabbed at him from within, turning his stomach and setting every nerve ablaze. It also released every emotion, every regret Bellamy held about Clarke. It was then that a voice from behind drew him from his drunken thoughts.

"At it again?" Jon asked, smirking over at his drunken friend. "Self-pity isn't a good look for you."

"Fuck off," Bellamy grumbled, taking another drink from his flask.

"Still haven't won yet?"

"Did you just come down here to make fun of me?" Bellamy asked, pulling the dark blue linen shirt over his head, losing his balance briefly before steadying himself on the edge of the small fountain.

"No, I came down here to pull you from your drunken stupor," Jon assured, moving to help him. "Come on, let's get you some food and I'll tell you what happened at the emergency summit this morning."

"I don't care," Bellamy replied, shoving him aside as he passed. "I'm going to the fights this afternoon. I don't have time for bullshit."

"The council and the coalition have a plan to bring her home- "

"Just shut up about it already," Bellamy grumbled, leaving Jon in the room behind him. He could hear him following along but Bellamy didn't care, moving from the corridor out into the crowded morning street.

"I never pegged you for a quitter or a selfish coward but boy, was I wrong," Jon commented, coming to stand in front of him, blocking his path. "I'm not going to enable your childish behavior so follow me to get some food or you can find another place to live."

Bellamy glared at him for a moment, the mid-morning sun nearly blinding him as he stood there swaying. He turned it over in his mind, the thought of Jon droning on about edicts and treaties giving him a headache. However, the growling of his stomach was more disturbing and Bellamy agreed that a good meal might just be worth the harassment.

"Let's just get this over with," Bellamy sighed, taking another sip of the ale before following Jon up the street toward the market. He didn't dare admit that a little twinge of hope had stirred in his heart; he refused to imagine the look of self-satisfaction on Jon's face.


	3. Chapter 3: Honor

**Thanks so much for the read guys! More to come! Please R &R!**

* * *

Bellamy and Jon were enjoying their familiar pub, both seated on stools comfortably eating their meals while patrons played pool and cards in the background. The barkeep's wife was managing the place and didn't look too kindly on Bellamy when he sat down. Over the past couple weeks, he'd gotten used to it, the sneers and name-calling were almost expected. The whispering and the snickering were a little more irritating but he'd learned to live with it. He only hoped that during the arena season he could win back the crowd. This would be the first time in almost twenty years that a counseling family would compete in the summer games. Bellamy needed to train back up, to resume his normal training regimen. It had been almost four months since he'd stopped, pursuing his father's plans and his own greed instead.

"Where'd you go?" Jon asked, waving his hand in front of Bellamy's face slowly. "Hello? Bellamy?"

"What?" Bellamy asked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "What is it?"

"I was asking if you wanted to hear about the summit," Jon replied, eyeing him doubtfully.

"Not really," Bellamy sighed, shaking his head. "I can't deal with any more false-hope or failed plans right now. It's almost arena season."

"You need to hear this," Jon whispered, turning on his stool to look at Bellamy. "Even if you don't want to. It's not about you, asshole. It's about Clarke."

"Plans, talks, negotiations," Bellamy grumbled, taking a large drink of his beer after pushing away his plate. "Useless if she's dead."

"We've been assured that's she is alive and well," Jon replied, his voice low. "In case you were wondering."

"Even if that is true, there is no way Nia will allow Clarke to leave Azgeda alive. They didn't risk their men and the alliance with the coalition just to negotiate a teenage girls release!" Bellamy hissed, making the barmaid look at him gallingly.

"Just shut up and listen." Jon spat, motioning for her to refill their drinks. She did so quickly before disappearing down to the other end of the bar to clean glasses and mugs. "We've come to an agreement with the Azgeda ambassador who speaks directly for Nia. Lexa has also been sent as an ambassador for her people. They want to negotiate a cease-fire until proof can be provided that Clarke is still alive."

"They aren't going to let anyone step foot in their capital," Bellamy replied, his voice low as he glanced around the room. "And even if they did, that person is a dead man."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Jon sighed, taking a drink of his refilled cup. "Nia has agreed to hold off hostilities and to allow a delegation to enter the Azgeda capital. However, a date hasn't been decided and there's a bunch of paperwork and negotiation still needed to please the warlords and the other clans -."

"Bullshit," Bellamy growled, downing half of his beer, the floating feeling returning once again. "They just want to delay us and the proceedings, most likely until winter when the trip is too treacherous for us."

"My thoughts exactly," came a familiar voice and Bellamy whipped around on his stool to spot Raven Reyes. She had a smirk on her face, her hair tied up on her head messily. "So, how do we get around it?"

"What do you mean?" Bellamy scoffed, shaking his head. "There is no getting around it. No one knows the way to the Azgeda capital except for members of the Ice Nation."

"If that's our only problem, I have a unique solution," Raven smirked, pulling her handheld from her pocket. "I can't carry all of it on my phone. Our messages and network files are being surveyed by Monty's new hacker squad."

"Hacker squad?" Bellamy asked, gazing over at Jon bemusedly.

"They track potential security breaches in both the system and in the city itself," Raven explained, waving at the barmaid. "Some ale and a glass of whiskey." The barmaid only nodded, turning from the group to get the drinks. She was quick, obviously unwilling to be sociable with any of them.

"So, what is your solution?" Jon asked, glancing at her handheld again.

"Monty, Wick, and I came up with the idea," Raven admitted, pulling up a blueprint on her screen. She leaned in closer so only the three of them could see. Bellamy didn't want to let the hope rising in his chest overwhelm or fool him but the idea was brilliant.

"A drone," Bellamy whispered, smirking over his cup at the familiar design on her screen. "How far of a reach do you have on it?"

"So far, we've tested it as far east as Polis," Raven smirked, pointing at the antenna on the top of it. "This will allow us to track it and geographically map the border and their territory using live feed images and simple measurements."

"Polis is much closer than Azgeda," Jon pointed, glancing down the bar. "And how would we even get her out once we find it?"

"We're trying to figure out how to do thermal imaging but it is harder than expected," Raven sighed. "We don't exactly have the right personnel."

"Can you and Monty figure it out?" Bellamy asked, sounding a little more urgent. "I mean, can you at least make a beta?"

"An alpha if we're lucky," Raven sighed, shaking her head. "We just don't have the knowledge to complete it yet. Infrared isn't new technology but we don't exactly have the parts."

"We can't wait too long," Jon reasoned, looking between them. "Winter will ruin any chance we have and who knows if they'll wait that long to start their war."

"We need thermal imaging just as badly as we need a guide," Raven commented, taking a drink of her whiskey. "Luckily for you two, I know my way around a computer."

"What do you mean?" Bellamy questioned, leaning in to rest his elbows on the bar.

"I mean, I've been sifting through old data for two weeks straight. Anything I can find on Azgeda or potential intelligence gathered from military engagements as well as territorial disputes." She downed the rest of her whiskey now, pushing the glass aside for the barmaid. "And there is absolutely no clue as to how to find the Azgeda capital. I've studied what history we know, what religion, and all their imports and exports but nothing about where their capitol might be located. I've even pulled up old maps from 200 years ago but have no hints at all. I can only guess that it is north of what was once called Allegheny State Park."

"Someone has to know something," Bellamy urged, looking over at Jon. "Do you think Monty can hack into the files from Polis?"

"He probably could but I don't think he would," Jon argued. "He may not have a problem monitoring trigger words and phrases here at home but spying on another nation definitely counts as espionage."

"It does but that's why I had him look deeper," Raven replied, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. She handed it to Bellamy first and he opened it slowly, allowing Jon to view it as he read. There were two names on that piece of paper and the title of what Bellamy could only guess was a project. He recognized Monty's handwriting and felt his chest tighten at the thought of what had to come next. The project name was titled "Odysseus" and Bellamy instantly understood the objective.

The two names, however, were the real problem. The first was his own father's name but the second was Tama Marama, the name of his mother's father. Bellamy stared at it for a moment before looking up at Raven reluctantly. She was staring at him expectedly and he only sighed, rolling his eyes before handing the paper back to her. He already knew what she wanted without having to ask; he'd have to talk to his father at some point if he wanted the information he had about Odysseus.

"I don't think I can talk to him," Bellamy finally spoke, looking between them. "I'll talk to my mother and see if she knows anything."

"And if she doesn't?" Raven asked, eyeing him doubtfully.

"Then we'll have to work something out with the drone," Bellamy grumbled, finishing his drink again. "This may all come to nothing in the end. My father is a deceitful piece of shit who doesn't deserve the satisfaction of calling me son."

"He did what he thought was right," Jon warned, looking at Bellamy outrageously. "You'd have done the same thing to protect your legacy and your children."

"I never would have put an innocent girl in danger," Bellamy corrected, glaring over at him. "No matter who she was."

"Then you're naïve because no one else thinks like that," Raven replied, sipping her ale. "No one except Clarke."

"He'll say anything to gain my trust again," Bellamy argued, looking at Jon. "He knows my feelings for Clarke and will twist them to get what he wants."

"Then don't let him," Jon assured, grabbing the back of Bellamy's neck and jarring him roughly. "You've got to do this because no one else can get this information. You need to do this before it is too late to help Clarke."

"Don't you think I've considered every possible route to take to get her out of there?" Bellamy asked, his tone dangerously low. "Don't you think that I might want her out of there just as much as you do?"

"We know you want it more," Raven replied, glaring over at him. "But you've been a selfish child lately and I think it is about time you consider what is best for Clarke and Arkadia. We're on the brink of war…"

"I'm aware," Bellamy groaned, turning on his stool to lean his elbows on the bar. "I'll talk to my mother and let you know what I find out." He then stood up, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. His head was floating like a cloud as he strode to the door. He was slightly buzzed but that didn't stop him from leaving the pub, ignoring Raven's calls and jeers. He just kept walking, up the wide avenue toward the market square. It wasn't market day so the streets weren't crawling with vendors and shoppers but Bellamy still felt eyes on him from the shops and passersby. He didn't care, the force of this new information driving him to the one place he'd sworn he'd never go again.

As he entered the square he noted the various people congregating and speaking over the fountains and few vendors who'd wheeled in their goods that morning. Bellamy didn't care to make eye contact, didn't care to stop or take note of the looks he was getting. He just kept walking, across the square, up the wide alley and into a small side-street that lead between his own family grounds and the neighbor. He hadn't been home in over two weeks, only seeing Octavia when she would come visit him at Jon's apartment.

Being home, under the same roof as his father, was something he just couldn't handle. Everything in him wanted to turn around, to stop him from taking that final step through the front gate and up the drive to the mansion. He approached the house slowly, his thoughts going wild at what his mother could say. He also considered what, if anything, he would say to his father. However, when he got to the large front door he paused, staring blankly at the opaque windows and solid wooden frame.

He didn't know how long he had stood there, or what had been going through his mind but something in him just froze. It had never happened to him before but he continued to blankly stare, thinking of nothing but how anxious he was to step through that door. It wasn't fear or anger that stalled him but a genuine chill that crept up his spine and numbed his senses. He willed himself to move, to swing the door open and step through but again he was numbed by the cold bite that paralyzed his body.

He'd spent so much time debating a move that his legs had become stiff, his eyes firmly locked on the door handle. The one thought that screamed at him was that he needed to do this for Clarke. If there was any other way, he would take it but this was the only plan he'd had hope in since their failed Azgeda invasion. He had never given up, never really lost that drive to find her but he knew that it would still end with their separation. Bellamy knew, standing before this doorway that if he entered, he would not return the same. His destiny, and Clarke's, would be radically different. He would make a sacrifice that not even he was fully committed to.

He almost jumped back at the jiggle of the brass handle and the creak of the door. There, in the entryway, stood Octavia, looking up at him amusedly. She had a warm grimace on her face and a hand on her hip. "Been out here long enough," Octavia commented, a knowing look in her familiar forest green eyes. "I've been watching you on the camera for a good five minutes."

"I shouldn't be here," Bellamy offered, turning from her but before he could walk away, Octavia's arms were around Bellamy's waist.

"Come in," she whispered, her hot breath warm on the middle of his back. "Don't leave me here alone."

"I… where is father?" Bellamy asked, sighing softly.

"He stays in his office and suite usually," Octavia replied, her arms tightening around him. "Come in; mom and I were about to have lunch."

"I need to speak to mom," Bellamy pointed, turning around to look down at her. "Where is she?"

"Waiting for me on the balcony," Octavia pressed, pulling him into the foyer. Bellamy didn't resist, looking down at Octavia's cheerful smile. It had been a while since he'd been home and he knew it hurt her to have him leave. However, Bellamy wasn't going to lie to her. He'd explained everything and Octavia, who he'd always seen as a child, understood the impact of the last few month's events. She'd taken it in stride, even going so far as to suggest that she offer herself up as a bride for Roan. Bellamy quickly shut that down, the thought of Octavia being Azgeda's prisoner making him sick to his stomach.

"I'll come in but I need to speak with mother about grandpa Tama," Bellamy insisted, closing the door behind them as Octavia moved toward the staircase.

"About what?" she asked, motioning for him to follow as they both climbed the flight of stairs. "Is it about the summit?"

"Yes and no," Bellamy smirked, remembering that his sister wasn't ignorant. He'd have to get used to that but smiled when she flashed him her trademark smirk.

"Then I want to listen," Octavia insisted. "I won't interfere and I won't speak, if you wish."

"It's something she may not even know about," Bellamy pointed, cresting the stairs and following his sister into the corridor. "I'm hoping she does so I don't have to speak to father."

"He misses you," Octavia retorted, looking over her shoulder at him. "You're his son."

"And he betrayed me," Bellamy sneered, making Octavia stop just short of the glass doors that lead out onto the balcony.

"And he regrets it," Octavia reasoned. "He would do anything to help you and to redeem himself."

"Just let me talk to mom first," Bellamy sighed, massaging his neck. "We'll deal with dad when it comes to it."

Octavia only nodded before turning back around, grabbing the door handle and swinging the door out. Bellamy followed slowly, the awning over the balcony shading the comfortable iron chairs and table which was laden with plates of food. Bellamy's mother was seated in one of the chairs, gaping shocked at who was coming through the door. She then shot up, taking a few quick strides before embracing him tightly.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she sniffled against his chest. He could tell that his mother missed him, not having seen him since his father was arrested two weeks ago. Bellamy pulled back slightly to look at her and she kissed his cheeks, thankfully smiling up at him.

"I'm so happy to see you," she admitted, placing a hand on his face. "Are you alright? Are you eating well?"

"I'm fine mom," Bellamy smiled, shaking his head. "I've been training again for the arena so I'm eating steadily."

"You smell of ale," she replied, wrinkling her nose. She then stepped back, moving to offer him a seat at the table.

Once they were comfortably seated, and Octavia had poured them drinks, Bellamy thought it would be time to approach the true reason he'd come. He enjoyed this time with his mother and sister but this balcony had sentimental meaning to Bellamy that tore him up from the inside.

"I was hoping I could ask you about grandpa Tama," Bellamy began but Aurora looked up at him sternly, sitting back in her chair.

"Is that why you came here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "To ask me questions? Is this about the summit?"

"Jon and Raven filled me in," Bellamy sighed, looking about so as not to be overheard. "Azgeda is willing to allow a delegation to assess Clarke's condition but there are preliminary talks and bribes that need to be made. It's a bunch of stalling by the coalition and Azgeda."

"Negotiations like this do take time," Aurora commented, grabbing her cup of tea. "And you cannot expect Azgeda to give in so easily, no matter the payment."

"Still, we must do something before winter sets in and the trip north is impassable," Bellamy urged, looking down at his hands. "Which is why Raven and Monty have been digging into the archives."

"The archives?" Aurora asked, her voice firm but soft. "There is very little that we know about Azgeda and even less about where it is located."

"It's a closely guarded secret but Raven found something that father and grandfather had worked on together for the military," Bellamy replied, his voice low but even. "It was called Odysseus."

"Like the Greek hero?" Octavia asked, looking between them. Bellamy couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at how smart his little sister was.

"Exactly," Bellamy replied, looking back at his mother. "Odysseus came up with the Trojan horse which is exactly what we need to bring Clarke home."

"I seem to recall a few long nights during the first year of our marriage," Aurora admitted, sipping from her cup. "And I remember talk of a plan that your father, at that time a Colonel under your grandfather, had been working on."

"Did he ever speak of it with you?" Bellamy pressed, watching her closely.

"Like the name suggests," Aurora began, setting down her cup. "The plan was to sneak some sort of gift or tribute into the city. However, your father was having immense difficulty finding a reliable source of information. Only Ice Nation members knew of the location and breaking them, even with torture, was impossible."

"Your father even reached out to the ambassadors of Lake People and Broadleaf but none could give him what he looked for," Aurora continued. "After months of negotiations and bribes, only one person could be found to give up the location. A former Azgeda man who sought asylum with the coalition for his family. Your father quickly met with him and offered him his protection."

"Does this man still live?" Bellamy questioned, not realizing he had leaned forward on the edge of the chair.

"I know not," Aurora shrugged. "The project was shut down when peace had been brokered between the coalition and Arkadia after the Azgeda attacks on our northern territories."

"This is all you know?" Bellamy asked, feeling slightly disappointed. "You don't know anymore?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head dismally. "But your father will know who the man is and where he can be found."

"I'd rather not speak to him," Bellamy ground out, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink of water.

"He yearns to see you," Aurora replied, watching him sadly. "You two are too much alike; stubborn and proud to the bitter end."

"It is because of him that Clarke is in danger," Bellamy spat, glaring at the garden below. The last time he had looked at it, Clarke was standing next to him, safe and happy. Now, it felt cold almost barren and his mother must have noticed his despair, reaching across the table and placing a hand on his.

"Speak to him, tell him how you feel, and listen to the full accounting," Aurora urged, looking up into his sad eyes. "Get closure on this before it tears our family further apart."

"He's the one who tore our family apart!" Bellamy growled, looking back at her. "He didn't trust me to make my own decisions and now we're disgraced, on the verge of being outcasts in our own home."

"And yet, we still have time," Aurora urged, squeezing his hand. "Azgeda will not let Clarke leave without an equal replacement. They didn't go through all that trouble for payment or land; they want more."

Bellamy stared at his mother, disbelief evident as they sat in silence. Even Octavia, who was watching them quietly, was stunned silent. Bellamy knew what his mother was implying but the fact that she was implying it suggested that this was the only way. It had been growing in the back of his mind since she'd been taken but Bellamy hadn't found a way to initiate such a plan. Now, with this new intelligence, he may just have what he needs to rescue Clarke from the fate that was forced upon her.

"They might kill me," Bellamy whispered, making Octavia's eyes go wide.

"There has to be another way," Octavia stated, shaking her head. "There has to be a way to get you both out of there."

"They'd catch us as we fled," Bellamy stated, his voice faint. "There is a reason no one knows where the Azgeda capital is. Any potential threat or leak is quickly, and sometimes brutally, eliminated. They need a distraction, an equal exchange to be satisfied."

"What if they chase after her anyway," Octavia offered. "What if they capture both of you. The future of both our families captured by the enemy and Arkadia will be at war."

"I have to try," Bellamy sighed, looking between them. "Both to redeem our family and rescue Clarke from my mistakes."

"Speak to your father about his informant," Aurora whispered, her eyes watering slightly. "And please, come home. I hate not having you close by."

Bellamy nodded, standing up and embracing his mother, wrapping an arm around Octavia's shoulders as they hugged. It was a somber moment and Bellamy had almost forgotten how much his mother trusted him, how his sister had looked up to him her entire life. It was then that his selfishness and pride had been parted to reveal the family that he'd neglected. He felt tears well in his eyes, guilt weighing on his chest as they held one another. It was then that he understood what his decision must be, the weight of this responsibility solid like a stone that had been swallowed. It was the only way to right what had gone so wrong and to protect his family and their people.

"Speak to him," Aurora sniffled, pulling away and wiping at her cheeks. "He'll be happy to see you."

"You don't have to forgive him," Octavia whispered, stepping away to look up at him. "But you're family."

"I'll do my best," Bellamy replied, turning from them. "Enjoy lunch and I'll be back after I've spoken to him."

"Promise?" Octavia asked, watching him closely.

"Promise," he smiled, opening the glass door in front of him and closing it with a soft snap and rattle.

* * *

Clarke had been staying in Roan's suite for the past two nights and so far, she enjoyed it far more than the cramped room she'd been jailed in. The bed was larger, softer, and warmer and the view was much better. There was an actual bathroom and a small study full of carvings, furs, books, and weapons. Clarke was astounded at the amount of literature that Roan possessed but he explained that most of it were salvaged during his grandfather's youth. Clarke had started to enjoy spending time in Roan's suite, the solarium being an ideal room to really map out the city with. Clarke had to keep busy while Roan was gone during most of the day.

She'd been cooped up again but this time, she agreed that it would be safest. Letting Roya cool down and avoiding Queen Nia were important for her survival. Roan only came back to his suite at night, after the sun went down and Clarke took advantage. She'd spend most of the day looking at the books Roan had or sketching, letting her mind wander home again. She'd grab some pillows, a warm fur throw, and sit in the solarium for hours, drawing and contemplating her options. It was less stressful than before but she was still weary of any help Roan offered. She didn't trust any of them and the time spent contemplating her next move was well spent when she wasn't drawing familiar places.

She'd left her portraits behind in her previous room and had not bothered to go back. They were long burnt, used for kindling or thrown away and Clarke could only focus on what was right in front of her, what she was really fighting for. She needed out for her own selfish reasons and like anyone else, she wanted freedom. She had decided the moment that she was caged in that room that Arkadia itself was partially responsible for her abduction. Not her people but the people who Clarke had considered colleagues and leaders; they had been personally responsible in their compliance. For too long they had stood by on the edges of a precipice, watching those who clamored below with judgement unearned or deserved. Too long they had fought amongst themselves destroying the world gifted to them by their ancestors and enough was enough. Clarke had been moved to action and if she lived through this, Arkadia would never be the same.

Clarke had debated this endlessly, the good and the bad, the arguments for and against, hours spent trying to reason each side. It wasn't hatred that drove those in power to seek more, to abuse their influence. Clarke had reasoned that it was the opposite; a great love that twisted and warped the fragile line between compassion and severity. The people of Arkadia had known this life for too long, the threat of war but the luxury of protection making those who live average lives rise and fall like the seasons. They either slip into poverty and are forced to live lives of criminality or debt while those who rose above claw for smaller crumbs of an ever-expanding pie. It was maddening to think that all that prosperity and opportunity had overshadowed the criminality of humanity's greed.

Clarke had no idea what it was like to be a part of the majority; she'd had an ideal life compared to many others. Loving parents, anything her heart could desire, a good education, a great career, an invaluable skill, and the promise of a powerful and influential life for her children. Nothing was out of her reach and she had no idea what losing that felt like. What was worse was that she couldn't imagine never having that to begin with and it frightened her. It was a sickening feeling growing in her chest and she wondered if that made her a bad person. The thought of living a powerless and average life had never even crossed her mind. How do people accept the way things are without being complicit in the illusion of control?

However, Clarke did have control, even if it wasn't complete control. She had the will and the influence to be able to do something about it and she was still going to. She'd always wanted Arkadia to change for the better but up until now, she hadn't come up with a real plan. Vague concepts and general ideas didn't give her what she needed and she debated, over and over, the best course of action to take. She'd also pictured which scenario would be most likely. If Roan's plan succeeded and he really let her return to Arkadia, any move she made might be considered retaliation on the Blake family and their partners. It would also be an emotional and unwarranted interference on council affairs which would push Clarke aside at a time when peace was what was needed.

She knew she couldn't do it without her allies and her father and his fellow council members would never agree to step aside. She had to consider what was best for everyone and that included the families who had created the mess to begin with. She couldn't abandon future generations who hadn't been complicit and she couldn't afford to alienate those who held the resources they needed in the balance. There were many options to consider but Clarke knew that if her suspicions were confirmed, she'd never make it out of this fortress alive.

It was on the third morning that Roan had not left as early as he usually did. Clarke had just put on the heavy linen robe Roan had gotten for her, loosely strung around her before leaving the bedchamber to enjoy her breakfast. The quality of the food had improved since she'd been staying in Roan's rooms. She was grateful for that, looking forward to meals for the first time in the past couple weeks. However, she was stunned to see that Roan was seated on one of the plush couches in the antechamber, enjoying a mug of what Clarke assumed was warm mead.

"Good morning," Clarke said, pushing some of her hair back over her ear as she approached the couches. She unconsciously tightened the robe, tucking the sash into itself.

"It looks like it will be," Roan nodded, pointing out the high windows that allowed the morning sunshine to flood the room. "I was actually going to ask if you'd be interested in getting outside today."

"Really?" Clarke asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. She grabbed one of the pastries from the tray, munching on it as she looked up at him.

"Really," he assured, a smirk spreading over his face. "I see you're still limping slightly. Perhaps it is not a good idea to show you the stables and maybe go riding?"

"It's still too early to put stress on my leg," Clarke whispered, taking a sip from her cup of water. "But I would love to go riding. Being outside would probably be therapeutic."

"You can ride with me," Roan nodded, taking a drink from his own cup before leaning back on the couch. "We can go riding through the hunting grounds and the market if you'd like."

"I'll get dressed," Clarke nodded with a wide smile, moving to stand from the couch again. Going outside was something Clarke had been thinking about for days now but Roan stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Eat first," he nodded, looking at the food on the table. "You need your strength."

"I need to get out of this fortress," Clarke urged, grabbing a boiled egg and popping it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, looking distantly at the fireplace that was burning very low. They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, Clarke eating another roll and taking a bite of the thick ham on her plate. She had almost finished the second roll when she heard Roan chuckle, looking up at him curiously.

"You're not very good at hiding your feelings," Roan commented, looking her over. "I can see you're tense and anxious just by looking at your face."

"I've never been the person that hides their true feelings," Clarke admitted, smirking up at him. "There is no point because believe it or not, it does more harm than good."

"You should tell my sister that," Roan suggested, moving to stand. "Make sure when you get dressed you chose some warm furs and leather. It's still cold and the breeze is out of the north."

Clarke didn't need telling twice, moving as quickly as she could back into the bedroom where her clothes had been stacked. Most of it was new, given to her the first day she stayed in Roan's rooms. She didn't need help, pulling on the linen undergarments and soft leather breeches. She had pulled on her boots slowly to avoid irritating her leg but once she was fully dressed, her fur lined jacket tied around her waist, she observed her reflection. The reflective glass of the wall length mirror in front of her wasn't as finely polished as a regular mirror, warping the image slightly but she could see that the outfit fit her quite well.

She also noticed that her frizzy curls and unruly locks were in her way, falling in her face as she observed her reflection. Clarke immediately walked over to one of the nightstands by the bed, scooping up the carved hairpiece Roan had given her. It would work to hold her hair out of her face and Clarke quickly pulled up her bangs, fastening them securely with the carved flower. The teeth fit surprisingly well and Clarke bobbed her head a little to see if it would remain that way.

Roan had come in at that moment, knocking a couple of times before pushing open the door. He observed her for a minute before nodding, his own thick dark leather jacket with slate gray fur lining fitting snuggly over his chest. Clarke couldn't help but admire how noble Roan looked before her. He'd always been an attractive man but Clarke had noticed for the first time that he wasn't just attractive. Nobility, strength, and danger radiated from him and Clarke was almost stunned at how alluring that was. However, when thinking of everything Roan had, she couldn't help but compare it to Bellamy.

"Ready?" Roan finally asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Definitely," Clarke assured, moving toward him. He nodded, turning and holding the door for her as they crossed the lounge to the double doors that lead to the rest of the fortress. Clarke almost jumped when she saw Bruni standing on the other side of the doors, arms crossed and dressed in thick leather.

"You don't have to observe today," Roan said, nodding at Bruni. "I can handle it."

"Yes, your highness," Bruni nodded, bowling slightly before stepping aside.

Clarke watched her closely as Roan shut the door behind him, the small slats near the ceiling letting in the morning light. The corridor was still dim as Roan led the way toward the simple stairs he had climbed a few days ago with Clarke in his arms. Bruni was following them as they descended the stairs, Clarke moving slowly so as not to irritate her leg. She could hear Bruni's impatience without her having to speak, the irritation the woman behind her was feeling almost radiating off her. Clarke sped up as fast as she could but she still wanted to take it easy, reaching the bottom of the stairs and quickly moving out of Bruni's way.

Clarke just glared at Bruni as she passed, the tall woman bowing slightly to Roan before disappearing through a doorway down the corridor. Clarke could hear the amused chuckle that escaped Roan and she followed him back through the plushily decorated lounge she'd seen a couple days ago. Once they'd finally reached the gallery above the dining hall, Roan turned down another small spiral staircase, waiting patiently for Clarke as she descended. Once she did she realized she was in a small antechamber off the dining hall, observing the lengthy hallway that lead alongside it. It wasn't long before Roan had led her to the grand foyer that housed a massive chandelier and a few ornate tapestries. It was a large room with wooden blinds for skylights and intricate carvings around the ceiling along with massive sanded beams perched over them.

"This was once the dining hall," Roan explained, moving to the large set of double doors that lead outside. "During my grandfather's time, this is where they decided everything so this space is somewhat sacred."

"It's very beautiful," Clarke admitted, looking about. She was almost blinded when Roan swung open the doors, revealing the courtyard beyond. It was framed with square cut blocks of stone, the ground littered with small stones and pebbles that, over time, had been pressed into a cobblestone walkway. Clarke saw how the steps wound down toward the main gates of the fortress, the courtyard bigger than she'd imagined. Clarke followed Roan as he walked across the wide stone path, motioning for her to keep up as they wound their way down the pathway and around the large stone squares. Once they'd rounded back toward the fortress, Clarke spotted the large tunnel that lead from the front to the back of the keep, the outbuildings surrounding the courtyard full of life.

Clarke saw blacksmiths lifting materials, hammering metals, and stoking fires. She also saw butchers yelling at milk-maids and children playing violently in the corral. Clarke was stunned at how seriously they fought, neither child looking to be older than ten. Clarke didn't realize she had stopped to watch them until Roan had come to stand next to her, grazing her shoulder with the back of his hand.

"They start their training at eight and graduate only when they've made their first kill in battle," Roan explained, his voice solemn but full of reverence. "We usually wait until they're fifteen or sixteen before they see battle but recently they've been sent younger and younger."

"How many make it back alive?" Clarke asked, pity washing over her as she observed them.

"Half, sometimes less," Roan replied, his voice soft but even. "I was thirteen when I was sent into battle under my cousin's command. We joined with a group of twenty-eight and only ten made it back, including myself."

"We don't allow our soldiers to see battle until they are at least sixteen," Clarke condemned, her eyes meeting his. "And that is only if they are exceptionally talented."

"It's not an easy life," Roan admitted, turning from her now, heading toward the tunnel. "But it is our way."

Clarke just followed him, the sound of the two fighting children fading as they stepped into the windswept tunnel. Clarke held her jacket closer to her neck, walking slowly as Roan started to pull away. Her leg, though healing, was starting to ache. She'd soon have to rest but the biting whip of the wind had almost stolen her breath. She covered her nose and mouth with her jacket sleeve, wishing she'd have brought gloves as she pushed on behind Roan. Once she emerged from the tunnel the wind had died down and it wasn't so cold, the courtyard beyond full of straw, barrels of supplies, and horse stables. Clarke was impressed with their stock, noticing the two snowy white horses standing in the largest of the stables, looking out at her with onyx eyes.

Clarke also noted the variety of all the different horses, some swaying in their stalls, others munching on oats and hay. There were black, brown, gray, and spotted horses littered throughout the stables and Clarke immediately longed for the comfort of her own family's stalls. Roan had walked over to one of the stalls in the stable, talking in a language Clarke wasn't quite familiar with to an older but larger man. She could make out a few words and phrases but they were speaking too quietly and quickly for her to make out the conversation.

Roan then turned from the man a moment later and walked over to Clarke, a smile on his face. "My horse is saddled and ready if you want to sit over here in the stables and warm up before we ride out. She's almost done feeding…"

"What's her name?" Clarke asked, looking about at the horses in the stable, moving through the doorway into the massive wooden barn. "Which one is she?"

"Here," he motioned, walking to the second gate on the right. "Her name is Elise." Clarke walked over and peered over the gate at a massive black mare. She had silky black flanks and a beautiful black snout. She munched hungrily on her food as Clarke stared up at her, her long black mane flowing like water over her neck and back.

"She's stunning," Clarke smiled, noticing her eyes were a golden color. "What beautiful eyes."

"She's the fastest horse we have," Roan assured, reaching out and petting her snout. "She once got me to Polis and back in six days."

"Amazing," Clarke whispered, raising her hand to pet Elise's neck. "She reminds me of my own horse, Kahl. He's very fast and very free-spirited."

"We shall have to race them sometime," Roan nodded, offering for her to sit down and wait as he made the final adjustments to her saddle. Clarke waited patiently, glad to be able to get off her leg. She watched quietly as Roan checked the straps and the saddle, strapping his sword into the hilt before grabbing the brush. He rubbed her down, meticulously checking her legs and flanks before setting the brush aside. By then she had finished eating, patiently waiting for Roan to finish. Elise was majestic and Clarke swore this beautiful creature knew of her allure, glancing every once and a while in Clarke's direction for assurance.

Clarke stood up when Roan grabbed the reins and she felt excitement rush through her for the first time since she'd been taken. Roan noticed the silly grimace on her face as he approached, Elise stepping up next to him quietly. Just then, the stable hand had shown back up, offering to take the reins as Roan turned toward Clarke. She almost gasped when he lifted her off her feet, setting her easily in the saddle, waiting for her to patiently swing her injured leg over. Once she did, she grasped the saddle, afraid to fall off. She couldn't quite squeeze her thighs without irritating her leg which made her very anxious.

Roan didn't waste any time though, grasping the saddle under her hands and hoisting himself up and over. She immediately felt his grip around her waist as he grabbed the reins from the stableman. It was reassuring, his arms framing her onto the saddle safely as he got comfortable in the seat. She adjusted slightly when he was done, able to better grip with her knees if she leaned forward slightly. This made him grunt and she immediately froze, unsure if she'd hurt him with her movement.

"It's okay," he assured, adjusting slightly. "I just wasn't expecting you to lean forward."

"Is this better?" she asked, leaning back again, trying to maintain grip without straining her leg. It was already sore from walking and she didn't want to further injure it by riding.

"I won't let you fall off," Roan assured, adjusting his arms so they went lower, around her waist and rested comfortably on her thighs. She didn't mind this, the warmth from his body as well as the added weight made her feel more secure in the saddle. "You comfortable?"

"Yes," Clarke nodded, anticipating the horses moves as Roan spurred her forward. The horse started out at a slow walk but it escalated into a trot rather quickly, making Clarke gasp as they left the stables behind. They didn't go back through the tunnel though, Roan leading the horse toward another archway that was gated by steel bars and wooden slats. The door opened as they approached, creaking loudly as Roan slowed Elise to a halt. Roan waved lazily at one of the guards who was manning the gate, passing him with a nod before spurring the horse forward. Elise broke out into a trot now, making Clarke grasp onto the horn of the saddle tightly, Roan's fist instantly tightening around the reins.

Clarke had marveled at the size of the palace but the hunting grounds that were just adjacent were magnificent. Tall pines stretching ominously toward the pale blue sky, the branches swaying and flitting in the breeze like flags, dropping needles and cones on the forest floor around them. Clarke inhaled slowly, enjoying the musty scent of dirt and the crisp evergreen that overwhelmed her. It was a relief to be out of that fortress but the fear of having to return sent a chill up her spine, the biting wind nipping at her nose and cheeks as they rode.

"We'll head down to the market," Roan assured, his breath warm on her neck as he leaned in to speak to her. "How is your leg?"

"It's fine," Clarke assured, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. She could barely see him as they bounced along down the wide dirt path. "The grounds are very beautiful."

"They were the reason my ancestors chose this spot," Roan assured. "Plenty of game and sport for everyone."

"The hunt is a rite of passage in Azgeda, right?" Clarke asked, remembering what Lexa had mentioned once. The only reason Clarke knew anything about Azgeda before all of this was because of Lexa and she wondered if her friend was worried about her. Lexa had always warned Clarke that Azgeda's ways were different than theirs, more brutal.

"All our young warriors learn to hunt," Roan nodded, pulling up on the reins to slow Elise to a walk. "It is essential for survival but only the bravest, and most skilled, participate in the Voksen Hunt."

"Voksen?" Clarke asked, glancing over her shoulder at him, noting the smile on his face.

"It is a hunt that requires the hunter to be completely secluded," Roan explained, swaying with the horse as they clopped through the tree trunks. "They set out, alone, with nothing but a knife, axe, and the clothes on their backs. They must head north, survive off the land, and bring back a worthy kill for their family."

"Did you do it?"

"Of course," Roan chuckled, pulling the horse's reins to steer her into the trees and off the path. Clarke admired the ferns and small foliage but didn't expect to see a skulk of foxes, prowling through the brush with bright orange and yellow fur. Clarke watched them and listened as Roan talked about his hunt, an excitement in his voice that Clarke appreciated.

"I was sixteen," Roan explained, his chest rising and falling evenly as Clarke leaned into him, feeling slightly more comfortable in the saddle. "I went north to an area known as the bar. It is a narrow river valley well known for its big game; bears, wolves, moose, and elk were known to feed and hunt here. So, I made a bow out of a fallen tree and used animal sinew to string it." Roan grasped at the reins again, pulling the horse from the ledge of a small gully, and leading her downhill toward the road beyond the trees.

"What was your prize?" Clarke asked, swaying in the saddle as she held to the horn. "I saw your grandfather's mounted moose; it was very beautiful."

"Oh, I didn't get that lucky," Roan replied, the nostalgia in his voice making Clarke smile. "I hunted that valley for over a week, sleeping in a small lean-to, trapping small game for food, and fishing the river. I had almost decided to leave and venture further north for better game but that morning, while I was packing, a bear had emerged from across the river."

"A bear?" Clarke asked, glancing back at him as they emerged from the forest onto the road that lead directly into town. She spotted the people, going about their daily business, glancing up at them as they passed, trotting across a small wooden bridge that spanned a ditch.

"A bear," Roan confirmed, relaxing in the saddle behind her. "It was a great grizzly, large for its age, and I had a perfect shot. Of course, it only injured the beast and I ended up tracking it for another few hours once I got across the river."

"What did you do with it?" Clarke asked, smiling at a group of children passing by, all of them stopping to wonder at the two of them.

"I skinned it, bagged the meat, and brought the pelt home to make into the fur blanket that sits on my bed today," Roan assured with a nod.

Clarke nodded with a smile, looking at the buildings lining the street with interest. She'd never seen such architecture, especially made of wood. The walls were short but the rooves were pointed and long, ornamental knots and Azgeda symbols adorning the doorframes and windowsills. Clarke noted how simple the people were dressed but how finely crafted their garments were. This is the closest she's been to anyone other than the royal family and warriors so the striking simplicity was refreshing.

Roan turned a corner now, passing a few houses with simple wooden fences holding livestock and a few large stables and barns. Clarke noted how orderly the roads were laid out and how worn the stones had become lining the dirt and wooden roads. She was enthralled by this small but beautiful city and wondered if she had judged the Azgeda culture too harshly. It was only when Roan had turned another corner that Clarke realized where she was at. There were more and more people lining the streets ahead, most of them stopping to look at Roan and Clarke as they approached.

"They are staring at you, right?" Clarke asked, looking over the many faces of shop keeps and vendors.

"Some of them, yes," Roan replied, the horse pulling to a stop, making Clarke sway in the saddle. "Let's give them a few moments to stare."

Before Clarke could reply, Roan had slid down off the saddle, thumping to the ground. He still had hold of the reins and he quickly turned to hand them off. A random person standing in the crowd, a soldier no doubt, took them from him with a bow. Clarke couldn't help but smirk at this, a grimace forming on Roan's face as he reached up, offering his hands up for balance. Clarke watched him for a brief moment, glancing at the horse and the people that had all turned from their daily tasks to observe them.

The temptation to spur the horse forward, to shove aside all these people, and bolt for the bridge across the river had drawn her attention. If she was ever going to escape, now would be her best chance. However, she knew she wouldn't get far, even with a horse. She'd gone over that scenario more than once and knew she'd be hunted down or freeze to death in the cold Azgeda landscape. So, mustering up a smile, she turned to Roan and swung her leg over the horse. She took Roan's hand's gently and slowly lowered herself from the saddle.

"I'll show you the market," Roan insisted, glancing down at her knowingly. She couldn't help but smirk back, wrapping her arm around his securely.

"Then show me," Clarke insisted, nodding for him to lead the way.

* * *

Bellamy stood outside his parent's doors, like he'd done time and time before. As a child he'd come here to speak to his mother or learn from his father. He'd sneak in in the middle of the night and jump in bed with them as a child, always waking from nightmares. He'd laugh and play with them as he grew up, and after Octavia was born, they always had their family nights in his parent's suite. But now, standing at the door, Bellamy felt a twisting sickness in his stomach.

He had sworn he'd never speak to his father again, never give him what he wanted. Bellamy knew his father better than his mother believed. Bellamy knew how stubborn and cunning he was and Bellamy knew how driven he would be to still achieve his goal. It sickened Bellamy even more, making him take a step back from the double doors. He didn't want to be here and yet the thought of it getting him one step closer to Clarke was entrancing. He had felt hope for the first time in weeks and today he would bet it all on the fact that his father could keep it alive.

Bellamy knocked on the door now, waiting patiently for an answer. It was only when he didn't hear one that he opened the door, stepping inside cautiously. He glanced around the room, noting the laundry and books strewn about the lounge. Then Bellamy spotted him, in the corner propped on a couch, thoroughly preoccupied by a book. He hadn't even noticed his son until Bellamy stepped closer, Kayden's dark eyes meeting Bellamy's with wonder.

"Father," Bellamy greeted, feeling somewhat tense.

"You're finally here," Kayden replied, his eyes growing wide. "I've been waiting."

* * *

 **So, what do you think Bellamy will do now? What is this awful truth? More to come! Thanks so much! Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: The White Crown

**Here you are! Chapter 4. I hope you enjoy it. R &R! **

* * *

"You'd have waited much longer if it were up to me," Bellamy retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I came here to ask you some questions about a project you worked on before I was born. It was called Odysseus."

"Bellamy, please," Kayden said, standing from the couch he'd been perched on. "I want to apologize for everything that has happened. I can explain- "

"I don't want to hear about your feelings or your excuses," Bellamy spat, stopping short. "I don't want anything from you but the truth."

"This is how you'd speak to me?" Kayden asked, becoming a little irritated, crossing his arms. "This is how you choose to speak to your father?"

"I don't consider you to be anything more than a traitor," Bellamy growled, glaring up at him. "You betrayed me; you chose to betray your only son. You don't deserve the right to be called father."

"I didn't choose anything," Kayden snapped, his voice raising. "You have no idea what I've done to protect you and our family from our enemies. You have no idea what I've sacrificed so that my grandchildren and great-grandchildren can live in peace!"

"Peace?" Bellamy scoffed, looking up at his father bemusedly. "You think you've won peace with your plots and schemes?"

"I thought I had," Kayden growled, grabbing his goblet of wine that sat behind him on his desk. He downed it, taking a few deep breaths before turning back to look at Bellamy. In that moment Bellamy saw the tired, fading, warrior that he'd once known. He saw it today as he'd saw it months ago on their trek north only this time, a little more of Kayden had slipped away. Bellamy barely recognized him and guilt began to pool in his chest.

"Odysseus," Bellamy insisted, trying to shake the feeling. "Tell me about it."

"It was a plan set in motion by your grandfather, Tama," Kayden replied, his voice low and even. He had moved to sit in his chair now, sliding it aside with a squeak before sitting down. Bellamy could see the haggard look in his eyes. "Odysseus, as the name suggests, was a way to infiltrate and bring Azgeda down from the inside."

"During the last war, Azgeda had raided our northern border, killing over two hundred men, women, and children. The northern legion also took heavy losses - over 100 cadets, soldiers, and officers slaughtered in guerilla warfare." Kayden sighed, leaning back in his chair now, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he spoke. "We didn't see an end to the hostilities and we had to consider the past wars and attacks upon our people. We couldn't stand for the violence anymore so we had to decide. The next day the council had unanimously and secretly approved, The Odysseus Protocol."

"You had a contact," Bellamy interjected, watching his father closely. "A rare informant; an Azgeda defector."

"We called him Koa," Kayden nodded, a grimace on his face. His son always liked to skip to the heart of the matter; impatience gotten from him no doubt. "Our plan was simple: we'd offer his family sanctuary and in exchange, he could lead us to the capital. He'd defected because his son was born with a radiation defect which, in Azgeda, meant death. He couldn't bear to part with his son so he and his young wife fled to Polis."

"How do you know he isn't a double agent?" Bellamy questioned, not believing in coincidence. "How exactly did you find him?"

"I'd spent some time in Polis during my youth," Kayden nodded, pouring himself some more wine. "It was there that I became friends with the man who would be commander. Alexi was a close confidant and I am sure that it is because of his friendship that I am not dead now."

"The commander introduced you to Koa?"

"He was our age, worked around the corner from our favorite game-house," Kayden recalled, a smile spreading over his lips. "We'd stop there every time to buy some ale and food. We didn't know he was from Azgeda until one night, while we were in a drunken haze, we made a mess. We almost burned his entire tunic and unfortunately, in the process of rescuing him, his scars were revealed."

"So, you're telling me you met an Azgeda defector almost twenty years ago and you've never once found the location of the Azgeda capital?" Bellamy questioned, a scowl on his face.

"You know as well as I that the people of Azgeda are stubborn, loyal to their Queen," Kayden growled, glaring up at Bellamy. "We couldn't just start torturing and hurting a man we'd called friend. He wanted a simple life, a peaceful life, and Alexi and I agreed to never speak of it."

"Until the Odysseus Protocol?"

"We were ordered, by Alexi's uncle Commander Aelik, to seek out spies and defectors in our own lands as well as other clans," Kayden sighed, his eyes becoming distant. "That was what initiated our plan. The Commander was ruthless when it came to Azgeda spies and deserters. He'd torture them for information, abduct their families, and it began to feel like we were swimming in lies and blood. It was truly hell on earth…"

"But your friend? Koa?" Bellamy urged, the turning anticipation in his stomach almost leaping out his mouth. "Did they find him?"

"We made sure he was well hidden," Kayden said, glancing back at Bellamy woefully. "In exchange he revealed to us what he knew about the capital."

"Then why haven't you used it?" Bellamy growled, anger rising in his chest. "You could have taken care of this Azgeda problem long ago!"

"It wasn't that simple," Kayden glowered, turning back to his wine. "The abduction and torture of their citizens set Azgeda on a war path that wouldn't have stopped even if we had told them what we knew. Nia was looking for any reason to strike, any reason to strengthen Azgeda's position. We couldn't have gotten far even with the location of their capital."

"So, your information is useless," Bellamy sighed, turning from him. "You could have led with that fact…"

"We only know that the river it is located on is called the Agra Fa," Kayden retorted, standing up. "And what would you do with this information anyway? Infiltrate Azgeda? Do you truly think you can get to Clarke and make it out?"

"Don't you speak her name," Bellamy growled. "You have no right. It's because of your greed, your need for power and wealth that she's their prisoner in the first place!"

"She's a prisoner but it's a cage she'll never escape," Kayden warned. "You don't understand anything about what Nia has planned for Clarke."

Bellamy froze now, his eyes growing slightly wide at the thought of what they could do Clarke. She was tough but she didn't know anything about fighting or killing. That wasn't her game but he couldn't imagine that Nia would kill her. She's the most valuable hostage Azgeda had ever possessed.

"She's engaged to Prince Roan," Kayden explained, the pity on his face overwhelmingly sympathetic. "They'll marry, she'll become the Queen, and then on their wedding night, Nia will murder Clarke and Roan in their sleep. She'll blame the foreign bride, Azgeda will go to war with Arkadia, the coalition will divide, and it will be total chaos. A new praimfaya."

Bellamy almost collapsed onto the lounge chair, staring blankly at his father as the chair engulfed him. "How do you know all this?" Bellamy asked, his voice hoarser than he'd expected.

"I don't know for sure," Kayden admitted, watching his son. "But I know how Nia thinks and I've been watching her moves carefully for many years now."

"So what good is this informant of yours?" Bellamy asked, ready to just give up on this entire conversation.

"Koa was a simple man, but he knew the one thing none other did," he smirked, leaning toward Bellamy in his chair. "Koa knew about the murder of Roan's twin and Nia's revenge..."

Bellamy eyed him closely, unsure what he was telling him. As far as Bellamy knew, Roan never had a twin. And even if he did, what difference did that make now? He wasn't sure if his father was hinting at a larger plot or if he was just muddying the waters.

"Koa's son was born on the night she died," Kayden sighed, the nostalgia and heartache obvious in his tone. Bellamy had never seen him so broken. "Koa was a guard in the royal palace and the night his son was born, he was on guard duty. He knew something was wrong that night, that the King had a secret. He'd left his chambers while the fortress slept and returned shortly after, something out of character for the man who'd always been seclusive, like a hermit."

"I don't understand what this has to do with anything," Bellamy grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "What does it matter? We need to figure out how to stop Nia before – "

"Just listen to me," Kayden sighed, taking another drink from his glass. "It was only that next morning, when Roan's twin was found dead in her crib that Koa knew what had happened. Nia was furious, questioning every guard on duty that night. Koa had barely managed to evade her, going home to find that his wife had given birth already. It was when he'd met his son that he decided to get his family out of Azgeda that very same night."

"I still don't see how this helps us," Bellamy shrugged, watching his father apprehensively.

"Nia murdered her husband, King Ewan, in retribution," Kayden replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Since the night her daughter died, she's worked endlessly to secure power for herself and, in her own warped way, the crown for the daughter that still lives. Her plan was never to allow Roan the throne, who was favored by his father even before the death of his twin. Don't you see? This is her goal…"

"You knew all of this and yet you still pushed me into seducing Clarke? You still pushed me toward Roya?" Bellamy drawled, his voice low and full of disgust. "You plotted with her this whole time knowing the truth?"

"I had no choice," Kayden growled, his face stern, watching his son wearily. "Nia approached me with the suit and her plans almost ten years ago. She told me she'd eliminate the only obstacle in the Blake's way. She told me that if I cooperated with Azgeda that he would support our family when the time came for new leadership in Arkadia."

"You risked the life of a child for the sake of power?"

"No," Kayden barked, making Bellamy glare at him angrily. "I would risk the life of any child to save my own children. Do you think Nia politely asked to go along with her plan? Do you think she'd of revealed her intentions if she didn't have reassurances that I would comply?"

"What did you do?" Bellamy spat, his entire body tightening, afraid to hear what his father had really agreed to.

"She threatened to kill us all," Kayden said calmly. "She said if I didn't cooperate, she'd send assassins here, to our home, and that we'd never be safe again. She also threatened to reveal me to the council; she knew some things from my past that would have ruined our family, and any future, you and Octavia had."

"What and how did she find out?" Bellamy questioned, remembering his father's underground deals with the gangs and the cache of weapons he'd kept for himself.

"She'd been watching our factories and our troops in the north closely for years now," Kayden sighed, becoming frustrated with himself. "She knew we were increasing production, knew where our warehouses were at, and knew how to slip past our border without detection. Do you know how many supplies and shipments we've lost to Azgeda raiders?"

"So, she forced me into a deal," Kayden continued, noting the look of betrayal in Bellamy's eyes. "We'd supply Azgeda with a shipment of rifles every month and if I did not comply, she'd burn our northern factories to the ground." Kayden looked distant now, his eyes swimming in remorse. "She held that secret deal over me, threatening to tell the council if I didn't comply with her plans."

"You should have come clean," Bellamy insisted, feeling like weight on his shoulders nearly double. "You should have told the council about the deal and been fined or suspended instead of letting some foreign Queen manipulate you into doing her bidding. You should have fought harder!" Bellamy was so furious he didn't even want to look at his father. "All your side-deals and plots were more important than your family, your own blood! You should have been a man and owned up to your mistakes!"

"I told one man," Kayden growled, making Bellamy pause. "Believe it or not, Jake Griffin and I had not always been enemies. Clarke isn't the only one to have come up with unique and inspiring ways to help our people. She is much like her father in this respect…"

"You...?"

"You could say that we were rivals that became friends," Kayden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jake knew what Nia held over me, knew what I'd done and wanted to help. However, I let our friendship blind me and as a result, Griffin had planned to marry his own daughter to Azgeda, making sure to keep me silent in council with knowledge, and evidence, of my own dealings with Nia."

"You two have been blackmailing each other and playing with Clarke and I like pawns from the very beginning," Bellamy pointed, the anger in his voice almost palpable. "That's why you weren't jailed! Griffin knew everything and saved you, and his dirty lies, from being exposed!"

"I couldn't say no," Kayden almost begged, standing up slowly, hoping Bellamy would look at him but Bellamy was consumed with anger and heartache. "I had no idea you'd fall for the girl! I swear, I only meant to protect our family…"

"You've killed us all," Bellamy spat, standing up to look his father in the eyes. "You've killed us all because you couldn't give up your power! Do you think that's what we'd have wanted? We're disgraced anyway!"

"Plans were already in motion! It wasn't just me who sought out an Azgeda alliance!" Kayden was furious, his eyes ablaze. "Jacob Griffin brought this on himself as well. He initiated the idea of an alliance with Azgeda before I'd even been approached! Clarke was practically gifted to the royal family of Azgeda on her thirteenth birthday!"

"Both of you were compliant," Bellamy growled, slamming his fist on his father's desk. "He would have never agreed if you'd have taken that kind of a step without provocation from you!"

"You have no idea what he agreed to," Kayden spat. "Griffin knew that the only way for their family could hold onto power was through Clarke's marriage. They've known since she was born, and it was apparent he'd have no other heir. Her betrothal to Azgeda has been fated since she was a girl."

Bellamy was furious and before he knew what he was doing he'd swung and knocked his father into the chair that he'd been sitting in. His father fell to his knees and touched his bleeding lip, grasping at the arm of the chair to pull himself back up. He threw himself into the chair again, moving to look up at his son with a mixture of bewilderment and pride. Bellamy shrunk back though, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He'd never considered hurting his father but in that moment, the man he'd admired most had revealed his treachery against all Arkadia.

"You may be sorry, but I'll never forgive you for the part you played," Bellamy spat, regaining himself, the anger still hot in his stomach. "I'll figure out a way to fix this and when I do, you'll be lucky if we let you live."

"Bellamy, please…"

"You're no father to me," Bellamy retorted, turning from his father and striding toward the door. It flung open easily and he slammed it shut, the guards turning to look at him as he made his way down the hall. He didn't even know where to begin to fix this problem. He had to rescue Clarke, stop an Azgeda coup, and locate and somehow infiltrate the capital. He didn't even acknowledge his mother as she stood in the archway of the hall, walking right past her toward the gallery.

"Don't blame him," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "Would you have done it differently? Would you have chosen the fate of an unknown child over your family?"

"He lied to me," Bellamy growled. "If I'd have known, even a hint…"

"You'd have what? Not fallen in love with Clarke Griffin?" There was a wide smile on his mother's face and it irritated him that she could cut through the emotions and fog to get to the root of the problem.

"I don't know," Bellamy breathed, his shoulders slouching. "There's so much to consider and I don't know if I have the strength…"

"You're not alone," Aurora smiled, touching his cheek. "Never alone…"

"I have to go," Bellamy insisted, stepping away again. "If I can get us out of this, we'll talk about it later but right now, I need you and O to start packing your things. Do it discretely…"

"I've had a couple bags packed for weeks now," Aurora explained, nodding at him. "We'll wait for your word but I need you to promise me that you'll stay safe." She gazed up at him with a knowing intensity and Bellamy knew what she meant.

"I can't promise you that," Bellamy sighed, grasping her arm. "I can't promise you anything because I don't even know what I'm going to do yet."

"You'd risk your own life to save the woman you love," his mother pressed, the pride in her voice unmistakable. "But I need you to consider the rest of your family as well."

"I would never put you or Octavia in harm's way," Bellamy assured nodding at her. "But I have to go…"

He'd freed himself from his mother's tight embrace too soon and was jogging down the corridor toward the gallery. He'd nearly jumped down the stairs two at a time to get to the front door. There, waiting patiently, was the head of their household guard. Bellamy only nodded at him, quickly instructing him to keep the house locked down before sprinting toward the front gates. He hadn't even realized he had been sprinting until he reached the embassy square, pulling his own handheld out. He needed to find Monty, Raven, and Jon but he also needed to speak to everyone. If rescuing Clarke was the objective, he knew he wouldn't have to do this alone.

* * *

"Don't get frustrated," Roan urged, closing the book on the table in front of them. He leaned back on the comfortable couch now, smirking at her. "Azgedaslang is a tough language for outsiders to learn."

"I've always been a quick study," Clarke groaned, looking over another book sitting on the table. "It's all I can do to keep occupied and I'm failing miserably."

"Then you need something else to focus on," Roan nodded, standing up. "Have you ever shot a bow?"

"I've trained with a gun when I was a child," Clarke nodded, looking over at him. "We are all put through basic safety and training courses. I wasn't very good…"

"That's a small man's fight," Roan chuckled. "The sword, the axe, the bow… these are real weapons."

"No, I've never been trained in any of those," Clarke chuckled, taking a drink from her goblet before standing up. "Do you think I could learn to use a bow?"

"Why not?" Roan asked, offering for her to follow him. They had been sitting in one of the lounges just off the dining hall, drinking and combing over the few books that were available in the fortress.

"I could try," Clarke nodded, following him through the corridor and out into the main hall. "It would be a more practical talent to have."

"You can practice once your leg is fully healed," Roan nodded, glancing down at her leg as they walked. "But your accent is not horrible, you just need practice."

"Perhaps when we are together, we can speak Azgedaslang," Clarke suggested, thinking of no better practice partner.

"We can do that after you've studied a little more," Roan smirked, leading her into a corridor she'd never been in. Though she'd been here over three weeks, she didn't know her way around the palace that well. She hardly left Roan's suite without him but lately she has been adventuring in his wing with Bruni. The older girl was still cold as ever but at least her jailor was willing to answer questions.

"Where are we going?" Clarke finally asked, pausing in front of a large wooden door. Clarke had only now noticed it was also wrought with black iron and noted the carved symbols and scenes on the door itself. It was, like most of the buildings and carvings in Azgeda, beautiful.

"This is what you Arkadians would call an archive room," Roan smirked. "Or, maybe a treasury?"

When he pushed the doors open, Clarke was sure she'd found her favorite room in the entire palace. It was a vaulted room, thick and ornate columns lining one wall; each column had scenery carved into it as well. Battles, fables, mythical creatures, and divine symbols all wrapping up to a landing above. Clarke couldn't tear herself away from the sky-lights above them either. They were interwoven with what looked like branches, fitted with every shade of blue and white glass you could possibly make. It was extravagant.

It also housed shelves of the most fascinating things. Large tomes bound in leather and chord, glass ornaments, trinkets, and weapons lining a shelf along the one wall. She also loved that the opposite wall housed the same glass and branch design as the skylight, as if they were themselves inside of a large tree. What also caught her attention were the tables, desks, pedestals, and plush lounge chairs strewn about the room. The floor, smooth dark wood littered with woven carpets and furs, was almost glowing as the most elaborate chandelier she'd ever seen dangled above her.

It was massive, housing at least 100 candles, all thick as Clarke's arm. Their wicks were alight with blazes almost making it look like a small sun. The metal and bone work were ornate; silver intertwined with white bone protruding beautifully sophisticated filigree. It made Clarke a little emotional, feeling her eyes water as she stared lovingly around the beautiful room. She hadn't even noticed the massive fireplace near the door, made of polished stone and iron. It was definitely the warmest room in the fortress, making Clarke unbutton the fur shawl she'd been clinging to since Roan gave it to her almost a week ago.

"Do you like it?" he asked, motioning for her to step further into the room. He closed the door behind her and she couldn't help but spin around, laying the fur on the table closest to her.

"It is magnificent," she breathed, eyes alight in wonder. "What… craftsmanship. I had no idea anything so beautiful existed still…"

"My great-great grandfather originally designated this a hall for worship," Roan smiled. "But now it harbors some of the most precious Azgeda history and artifacts."

"I could spend eternity here," Clarke sighed, looking out the glass panels, some as large as she was, on the one wall. The room overlooked the forest and the mountains that stretched north into the unknown. It had been a dreary, cold and wet day but the fog rolling off the hills in the distance and the mist of rain above it created a magical scene.

"You could, if you desired to," Roan smiled, moving toward a carved alter near the far wall of the room. Clarke watched him curiously as he pulled the top up, revealing a compartment inside. Roan had pulled something out of it and closed the secret hatch before placing the object on top. Clarke moved closer to get a better look now, curious as to what the opulent white object was.

"This," Roan whispered, his fingers grazing the object. "Is the Azgeda crown. Passed down for almost 200 years; it is my birthright. I wanted to show you what I was fighting for, to show you why you are here."

Clarke studied it closely, the white bone crown looking almost like a crown of thorns. There were pieces of bone protruding from it, interwoven with silver decoration. Clarke saw, very clearly, the Azgeda symbol carved into the brow, filled with the finest silver touches. She was quite besotted with the idea of such a beautiful object representing the misery of so many. It was also quite heavy, she noted, gently sliding her fingers under it to lift it off the wooden alter.

"It is a burden, but I need to do what is best for my people," Roan said, glancing over at her. "I'm sure you can understand that."

"Monarchy is such a foreign concept to my people," Clarke replied, her voice soft but firm. "All of our ancestors understood the concept though; most trying to free themselves from that bondage. That mindset of greater and lesser…"

"I don't ask you to understand completely," Roan replied, turning to face her. "But I need you to know that this isn't just an object. It is sacred; our people believe that our culture, our prosperity, our way of life is passed down from one King to the next. I will not be the King who let Azgeda disappear from this world."

"Then why can't our people work together for that common goal?" Clarke asked, staring at the crown curiously. "Why can't we work toward the common goal of cultural exchange, mutual prosperity, and peace?"

Roan wasn't sure if she wanted him to answer, his eyes locked on the fire behind those deep blue orbs. It was a hot fire, blazing azure and unstoppable like her mind was a burning forge, mulling over her own questions with deliberation. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at her a long while, admiring how beautiful she really was. He hadn't even realized he'd unconsciously stood closer to her, averting his eyes to the crown as she slowly turned to look up at him. He mentally slapped himself for that. He shouldn't have cared if she caught him staring - she knew she was beautiful.

"I just don't understand this world," Clarke finally sighed, making Roan look down at her. She instantly became aware of how close they'd been standing, his body heat engulfing her like the large crackling fire in the hearth.

"When you have the answers, let me know," Roan nodded, his voice a little more gravely than he'd intended. He had no idea that it had made Clarke shiver, the goose pimples popping up on her arms and neck. He hadn't noticed but instead opened the alter again, placing the crown back within.

"Your world fascinates me," Clarke admitted, gaining his attention again. Roan didn't miss the sadness that accompanied that statement.

"You speak as if that were a bad thing," Roan offered, motioning for her to join him in one of the plush couches that sat nearest the fire. Clarke followed him, sitting gingerly on the wood and feathered seat.

"It is," Clarke admitted, leaning back against the warm furs. "You don't want me as queen and I don't want to get caught up in Azgeda plots and intrigues. You honestly think everything will just go as you want it to? That your mother will hand you the crown once we are married?"

"It'll be a fight, I'm sure," Roan admitted, turning his head to look straight down at her as he lounged next to her. "But convincing all of the warlords and the council that I am ready to ascend is going to take a lot of convincing. They have said that the only reason I haven't been granted the title is because I am unmarried. Normally, I'd have been married years ago and had sons by now."

"Why haven't you?"

"It wasn't what I wanted," Roan sighed. "The tradition amongst our people is that the prince chose a bride once he becomes a man. But I didn't want to just be given some woman hand-picked by my council. I wanted…" Roan trailed off now, feeling slightly stupid for revealing too much to Clarke.

"I understand," Clarke nodded, smiling up at him. "I didn't know you were such a romantic…"

"I've been accused of many things," Roan smirked, his voice quiet. "But romantic is not one of them."

"Do you love someone?" Clarke asked, her voice also quiet, watching Roan curiously. She had to admit that the prince's feelings had intrigued her; perhaps they were not so different.

"Not at the moment," he admitted, his breath hot on her face as he spoke. She could feel his eyes watching her, her own eyes drawn to the smile on his lips. She hadn't realized she'd been staring at them and looked away, biting her own lip as she did. She had no idea that this had jolted Roan's most primitive desires.

He didn't know where it had come from, the smallest act of innocence making his brain scramble. All he could think about at that moment was how wonderful those lips must feel; how soft her skin must be if he could just touch it. He also thought of how satisfying it would be to feel those lips on his skin. He quickly shook these thoughts away when she'd looked away from him, realizing he'd been leaning a little too close.

"I just haven't met the right girl," Roan said, his voice a little shaky, trying to move the conversation along. "I've only ever met one woman that had made me consider love and she is long dead."

"I'm so sorry," Clarke said, her voice a little more pitiful than she'd intended. Roan noticed and shook his head, gently poking the side of her head with his finger and a smile.

"It's okay Clarke," Roan admitted, a casual twinkle in his eye. "I was fourteen and we were in the same legion. You could say it was my first real experience with a girl. She was kind and ferocious, but she died on the battlefield. A true warrior's death and I'm sure that is what she wanted."

"You've never been with anyone since?" Clarke asked, disbelievingly. She hadn't realized this had tickled Roan greatly. Was this Arkadian princess really asking him about his sexual partners?

"I wouldn't say that," Roan smiled." But she was the first to make me seriously consider love."

"I see," Clarke replied, her face blushing as she looked toward the fire, avoiding his eyes.

Roan was curious, and fascinated, with this girl next to him. She was not what he'd thought she'd be. At first, she was indignant, angry, perhaps even a bit foolish but the more time he spent with her, the more attractive she became. He wasn't sure if she'd weaved a spell or if he'd truly found her attractive, but he'd never felt this sort of need before. It was lustful, he'd admit, but it was also curiosity. A curiosity to see her true nature, her true mind and all that was hiding behind those azure eyes.

"You are beautiful," Roan stated, as if he'd just figured it out, emphasizing the point. "I don't understand it though… it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Clarke just blushed, unsure if she should look at him or keep staring at the blazing orange flames in front of her. She battled with the idea of being seductive, giving him an act of feminine weakness, but she didn't want to degrade herself. She also felt a pain in her heart, like anything she did or said would hurt the man she truly loved. Bellamy's dark eyes danced in the fire now, making her look quickly back at Roan. She wasn't going to think like that – not when she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again. She had to be strong, she had to be smart, but above all she had to be careful.

"I don't understand it either," Clarke replied, looking straight up at him. "I guess I'm just one-of-a-kind."

"That's obvious," Roan replied, his eyes lingering on Clarke's lips. "But there is something there. A… wildness that I can't quite unravel. You keep it bottled up, I can see that plain enough."

Clarke swallowed hard now, his hoarse tone and the gravel of his voice filling her with warmth. She didn't know what to say to him, what she could do to smoothly divert his attention. She felt awkward but at the same time, incredibly drawn to him. It almost turned her stomach, her mind racing back to that passionate kiss she'd shared with Bellamy, the feel of his hands on her. Roan must have noticed the change in her because he smiled, leaning closer.

"I don't mean to make you uneasy," he assured, his voice soft, almost soothing as if he was coaxing a small creature into his trap. "But I am an honest guy. You're extremely attractive to me. I can't help but want to know more about you."

"Like what?" Clarke asked, her voice a soft whisper. She couldn't help but ask, his electric blue eyes entrancing her as he stared down at her. She could see the lust, the want, and the curiosity all bubbling beneath the surface. She had to be careful, she had to coax him to her side.

"How do you feel about me?" Roan asked, moving slightly closer, his arm going over the back of the couch. He turned to fully face her now, his other hand resting anxiously on his own leg. He needed to know what her reaction was, curious about what she would say. He could see that her breathing had quickened slightly, her eyes deepening as she gazed up him. He'd been around enough women to recognize lust. He also recognized a timid guilt that bubbled beneath the surface. He knew she was thinking of the Blake boy.

"I don't know," she replied slowly, her hands in her lap firmly, trying not to wrap them around herself protectively. He looked like a wolf, eagerly circling his prey.

"You're clearly attracted to me," Roan breathed, his face only inches from hers. His free hand had moved from his leg to her hands, gently grasping her fingertips. "I can see your body reacting to how close I am. It's quite stunning seeing such a lustful gaze in those eyes of yours."

Roan then leaned closer, his lips gently grazing her cheek before pulling away, a smile on his own face. "But I see your apprehension, your guilt… I can almost smell it." He smirked now, bringing her fingertips up to his lips, kissing the tops of them gently. "I won't force you into anything and I won't try to seduce you. I won't pressure you and I won't be angry, but you need to know how I see you. I think we could be quite formidable together."

Clarke couldn't process the range of emotions that shot through her in that instant. It was a mix of guilt, apprehension, anger, and fear that washed over her before the adrenaline. The sobering fact that Roan might have meant what he said had clouded Clarke's mind. She had immediately pictured dozens of different scenarios where this lust she felt was valid. Where she could somehow make a match with Roan work but the guilt in her heart overruled all that. She could see Bellamy's face, the heartbreak and anger in his eyes if he ever knew that she'd even contemplated it. She felt so conflicted and Roan's gentle touch on her leg made her skin flare the most brilliant shade of red.

"I love Bellamy," Clarke whispered, her lips trembling slightly as she looked up at him. He was, in his own noble and mature way, very attractive. Clarke didn't deny the lust she felt, the ache that washed over her. She had to consider all options and though her heart had been given to another, Roan's possessive and protective nature entranced her. How could she doubt that those words, that look in his eye, was a lie?

"I am aware," he drawled, gently tracing a circle on her leg before pulling his hand away. "First loves are intense, often heart-breaking; I admire your determination."

"You don't know anything about us," Clarke quipped, feeling the dryness of her mouth, licking her lip unconsciously.

"I don't," Roan affirmed, placing his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so their lips were almost touching. "But I know if you do that again, I'll have to leave the room. I don't think you know how tempting you are…"

"Please," Clarke said, the weariness of the entire situation overtaking her. She felt so taught, her stomach flipping and turning miserably as he gazed down at her. She couldn't admit that she enjoyed that look; lust and possessiveness oozed from every pore, surrounding her in his heat.

She felt his lips graze hers, his fingertips gently moving her jaw so that their lips met softly, fleetingly. He did this for a moment before placing a tender kiss on her lips, softly sighing against her cheek as he pressed his face into her golden locks.

"I hope you give it some serious thought," Roan said, the softness of his voice foreign to Clarke. She'd been around him enough to notice that he almost never spoke this way. "I wouldn't be opposed to making you mine."

They both felt the shiver than ran down her spine, the goosepimples forming on her bare arms and neck. Roan couldn't help but smile at this, the way her body reacted to his as his hand lowered her fingers back to her lap. He then grasped her upper arm, encircling her as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. She didn't know what was going on, why she felt so comfortable and so drawn to him. She didn't know him well enough to even see the real him but in these past few moments, she'd seen something magically beguiling.

"Kiss me," he almost commanded, making Clarke's whole body warm. The way his eyes locked onto hers, kept her attention, made her almost melt into him. His arm on the back of the couch wrapped around her hips instantly, pulling them together in a meld of heat and fur. Clarke felt so warm, his chest pressed against hers, the warmth of his fur and velvet tunic pressing down like a comforting blanket. She wanted more, her mind blank of everything but his touch.

It was when he suddenly pulled away, her lips swollen and warm, that she opened her eyes. He was smiling, a sort of smug smile that gave Clarke a jolt. It was so sexy, and she'd never even considered another satisfied smile other than Bellamy's. This was different though; he was triumphant, but he was also understanding, almost entirely engrossed in how he was making her feel. It was different than seduction, too natural to be an act.

"Someone likes to be told what to do," Roan commented, his hands lowering to grasp her hips. "Sit on my lap, princess…."

This jarred Clarke awake, as if she'd been in a daze this whole time. That word, that moniker, rang in her ears like a bell. Bellamy called her princess and she could hear it in the way Roan said it. It wasn't his voice at all but Bellamy's, the blush springing on her cheeks like fire. She pulled away from him, standing stiffly.

"I shouldn't have done that," Clarke said, her voice cold. "I don't think you understand so let me make it clear to you. I'm not someone's possession and I am not a piece on your gameboard. I love Bellamy Blake and one day, I will get back to him."

"I see," Roan drawled, his face a bit comical. He then stood, pulling Clarke flush against him. He stole a long, lustful kiss from her, his hands grasping her bottom and his hips thrusting into hers, making her almost purr in his arms. Just as quickly as it had happened, it was over, his eyes shining down at her. "Very well then. I will keep my promise; no seduction or pressure but you should think on it. You may find that you're not entirely sure of yourself yet."

He then nodded, motioning for her to follow him out of the room, Clarke realizing that the sun had begun to go down. She glimpsed around the room one last time before grabbing her fur shawl, pulling it over her shoulders before following him through the double doors. They'd come upon the long hallway again, ready to ascend to the gallery above when Roan stopped, almost making Clarke bump into him.

"There you two are," Roya called, waving for them to come into the small lounge off the main hall. "I was worried I wasn't going to see you tonight. You've been spending an awful lot of time together."

"Shouldn't we?" Roan quipped, turning and wrapping an arm around her waist, protectively approaching his sister.

They entered the room and Roan bowed slightly to his mother who happened to have been sitting at a table, glancing over maps and books. She noticed Clarke and flipped some pages over, standing to face them.

"Where have you been lately? We've yet to discuss the delegation," Nia said, staring up at her son. "Have you told her?"

"I forgot," Roan admitted, glancing down at Clarke.

"Lexa of Polis is coming to Azgeda," Roya announced, smiling down at Clarke coolly. "She's leader of the delegation sent to assess that you're still alive."

"And in one piece," Nia said, glancing down at her. "So, have you decided what you are going to say to the ambassadors?"

"We haven't discussed it," Roan said, his hand instinctually holding Clarke against him. "After all, we are still getting to know one another."

"The delegation will be here in two weeks," Nia continued, looking down at Clarke. "I understand that Lexa is a close friend…"

"So how are you planning to convince her that you're willingly marrying my brother?" Roya asked, a smirk on her face. "Personally, I'm not very convinced."

"Clarke knows Lexa better than we do," Roan grumbled, making his sister look at him. "She'll know what to say."

"And does she understand that if she deceives us, I'll kill her in her sleep?" Nia asked, watching Roan closely. His grip was so tight and so warm, and Clarke was thankful for it. She felt suddenly faint.

"She knows what I have to do," Clarke spoke up, finding her courage. "After all, I am to be Queen. If I can't handle this, how will I handle the responsibility of being both a wife, a mother, and a queen?"

"Smart," Roya chuckled, moving to stare down at her. "Very smart but I wonder if you are ready for all that. Mother, shouldn't she have to go through some sort of ritual, some sort of rite to ascend. After all, even the lowest amongst our people are afforded that honor."

"What are you suggesting?" Roan asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Should we just send her out into the wilderness? See what she makes of it?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Nia scoffed, turning to Clarke. "So, tell me, do you have any skills at all? Can you hunt? Ride? Fight?"

"We cover basic combat in primary school," Clarke spoke up, silencing Roan before he could respond for her. "We're taught to shoot a gun, plow a field, and protect our families. What did you have in mind?"

"Always so feisty," Roya sighed, looking over at her mother. "Let's make her fight our new recruits. See what she's capable of."

"We could have her fight the younger recruits," Nia suggested, Clarke feeling Roan's arm snake even more protectively around her hips. She was nearly flush against him now, looking up with wide eyes.

"How about we leave it alone," Roan suggested, his tone leaving no room for interpretation. "She's my bride so I'll decide what is best."

"I've been told you are teaching her our language," Nia commented. "And our history; I think she knows too much."

"She'll be my Queen one day," Roan responded, his shoulders squared. "She should know anything she wishes."

"You're being quite protective," Roya observed, Clarke's eyes finding the floor as the older girl gazed down at her. "Have you bedded her already?"

"Roya," Nia warned, looking between her son and daughter - if looks could kill. "Leave it. It seems your brother has matters well in-hand."

"I wonder," Roya sighed, turning from the couple. "You two are just no fun."

"I don't know you very well," Nia said, looking at Clarke. "But I've worked too long to have you mess up my plans. Whether you are reconciled to this match or not, you know what is at stake. Don't do something you're going to regret."

Roan and Clarke stood there now, watching both women leave the room, Clarke daring not to breathe until they were far from earshot. Once she let out a breath of relief, she noticed Roan had been watching her. There was a look on his face she didn't quite recognize and before she could speak, his fingers were gently holding her chin, making her stare up at him.

"You're truly fascinating," Roan affirmed, smiling slowly. "I'm looking forward to your performance."

"Don't be too excited," Clarke warned, her eyes narrowing to challenge him. "Lexa would never believe I was here of my own free-will."

"Then," Roan said, pulling her flush against him. "We'll have to convince her."

* * *

"I've found him," Monty said, sitting at his computer. He'd been going through files, endless names and locations of the citizens of Arkadia. He and Raven had been at it all afternoon and it was only when everyone else had seemed to give up that the answer was found. "Koama Hatal, 43-year-old pig farmer with two children. Wife passed almost five years ago. The girl still lives at home with her father, tending to their farm and the son is a captain at military camp Sigma."

"Where is their farm?" Bellamy asked, springing up from the chair he'd been lounging in. Murphy also stood up, standing behind Monty as they all assessed the screen.

"It's in the southwest," Monty pointed, pulling up a map of Arkadian land. "He's owned and operated his farm for over 20 years. Pays his taxes on time…" Monty kept looking, opening files that Bellamy was sure he shouldn't have been looking at. "Seems he's been living a comfortable life. Looks like he owns some stock in Blake Manufacturing."

"A comfortable pension courtesy of my father," Bellamy scoffed, noting the location of the farm. "How long would it take to get there? A day? Maybe?"

"You can't just approach him out of the blue," Raven sighed, looking up at him. "Why would Bellamy Blake be visiting some farm in the middle of nowhere?"

"It doesn't matter," Bellamy dismissed, marking the location on his handheld. "He owns Blake stock. I'll tell him I'm speaking to all of the shareholders."

"I'll go with you," Jon nodded, turning toward Bellamy. "This might not be as easy as we'd hoped and you're not exactly the persuasive type."

"And what if someone notices you're gone? What's the excuse? You know they are watching all of us, don't you?" Monty pointed, leaning back in his chair. "Let's at least have a plan."

"First, we must find out where the Azgeda capital is," Bellamy insisted, impatiently pacing. "Without that, we have nothing."

"And if he refuses to help you?"

"Why would he?" Bellamy snapped, looking down at Monty.

"Because you're a stranger who knows too much," Jon sighed, glancing at Monty. "We have to have incentive."

"Does Harper still have ties at Camp Sigma?" Bellamy asked, looking back at Monty.

"I assume so…"

"Good, tell her to contact the commanding officer," Bellamy said. "Tell her to make up some excuse to get his son to come home. It shouldn't take him too long so we might actually meet him on the road…" Bellamy's mind was racing, thinking of a way to coerce this man into giving him what he wanted.

"Colonel Berns oversees that camp," Raven pointed, raising an eyebrow. "You know he is heart and soul for the Griffin family, right?"

"He won't think anything of a sick relative or something," Bellamy suggested, making Raven shrug.

"If the council even gets a whiff of collusion or double-dealing, you'll be in for a court-martial," Monty warned, his eyes on Bellamy. "You were lucky to retain your rank after this entire fiasco. You want to risk it now?"

"What choice do we have?" Bellamy asked, the annoyance overshadowing the impatience he felt.

"I'll see what Harper can do," Monty conceded, pulling out his handheld. "But I'm not comfortable jumping into another dangerous situation without a plan. So, what is it? What is the ultimate goal here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Jon scoffed, moving to look out the window. "To get Clarke back."

"That's stupid," Monty pointed. "Even if we got the chance, which would be slim, it'd provoke a retaliation from Azgeda. Are we prepared for that at all?"

"It won't be a negotiation," Bellamy assured, crossing his arms. "They need an Arkadian marriage, so we'll give them one."

"You're not seriously suggesting…" Raven mused but Bellamy nodded, the room falling silent.

"Nia wants Roya to be queen," Bellamy chimed. "And if I were her King, I would have some sway on their foreign policy. I can make it part of the deal. They leave Arkadia alone and I'll agree to the marriage. We'll trade one important hostage for another."

"That's suicide," Monty pointed, looking up at Bellamy dumfounded. "They'd kill you the second you showed your face or keep you both as hostages!"

"I don't think they will," Bellamy warned. "They need an alliance. They need the coalition to rescind their tariffs and Arkadia to keep supplying them with food and raw materials. They don't want a war any more than we do. What Nia wants is her daughter on the throne and that we can give her."

"And Roan is just going to along with this? Be denied his crown because of some Arkadian rescue mission?" Raven asked, eyeing Bellamy. "It doesn't seem like they'll take the bait."

"Has your engagement been called off?" Jon asked, making everyone look at him. "With Roya? Have they backed out of that deal yet?"

"No," Bellamy said, eyeing Jon curiously.

"Good, then that is our in," Jon nodded. "Bellamy has the perfect excuse to accompany Lexa and her delegation."

"You think it is wise to let everyone know Bellamy is going to Azgeda with the delegation? And how would we convince Lexa to take him with her?" Raven asked, bewildered.

"Bellamy can go in secret," Jon nodded. "And I may not know Lexa very well but if this is our plan, I'm sure she'd have to agree. There really is no other option. Bellamy is right about that; Azgeda will not give up a valuable hostage that happens to just walk right into captivity."

"She'd gladly trade Bellamy's life for Clarke's," Raven noted. "But that doesn't change the fact that it doesn't guarantee she'll make it back alive. How are we going to accomplish that? It's not like we can just sneak Clarke out of their capital and discreetly exchange hostages."

"We need more incentive," Jon mused, looking about the room. "If we could find something…"

"Roya," Bellamy announced, watching the three of them. "If we can somehow get her alone, maybe we can trade two hostages for one."

"I don't like the sound of that," Monty commented, standing up.

"We have the advantage of surprise," Bellamy nodded. "I can sneak in among the delegation, wait for my moment, and use it to bargain for Clarke's freedom. I can exchange Roya's life, and mine, for Clarke's."

"This is going to be tricky," Jon admitted, shaking his head. "Do you have any idea how difficult this will be? Especially on your own? You can't guarantee you can even get close enough to Roya."

"I'll do what I must to free Clarke," Bellamy urged, making the rest of them fall silent.

"Well, the hell with that," Jon replied, waving his hand. "I'm not letting my best friend walk into the wolf's lair alone."

"I can't risk your life too," Bellamy insisted, watching Jon. "This is my family's mess and you've all helped me so much already."

"It's not up to you," Jon smirked, crossing his arms. "I'll watch your back and make sure Clarke gets back safely. There really is no one else you could trust with this mission more than me."

"We need a plan of attack," Raven said, looking back at the computer. "If I could figure out how to remotely operate the drone via handheld, we could easily survey the route into Azgeda…"

"I might be able to help with that," Monty assured, turning back to his computer.

"And we'll set up a relay squad," came Finn's voice, sauntering through the door with Landell and Wells close behind. "There is no way I'd miss this chance."

"We can pool our resources," Landell suggested, looking around the room. "Include only our most loyal guards on this mission. If we all work together, there is no way we will be detected."

"I can distract the council members," Wells suggested, looking down at his handheld. "They won't know we're on this mission until it's already over. I think Lexa would be on board with this plan and of course, if everything you said is true, Jake will be watching for news like a hawk."

"First things first," Bellamy interrupted, looking between them all. "We have to talk to this farmer. Monty, get a hold of Harper. Landell, pull some strings as well. Jon and I will set out early in the morning for the farm."

"It's my family's land," Landell offered, motioning to the map on the screen. "I'll escort you both."

Bellamy nodded, looking over at Finn now. "Do you have a way to contact Lexa, discreetly?"

"Yes, and I'm sure she is eager to come up with a plan, if she doesn't have one already," Finn smiled, looking over at Raven.

"Good, set some wheels in motion," Bellamy nodded. "We'll discuss it more when we return."

"This is a mad plan," Monty chimed, shaking his head, glancing up at Bellamy. "You realize what you are giving up? What you are risking for Clarke?"

"Completely," Bellamy assured, determined to right what their families had gotten so, so wrong.

* * *

 **Ooooh my... Roan is more persuasive than we thought. More to come soon! Thanks for the read. Much love. Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Fight or Flight

**Greetings readers! Here is another chapter. It is a bit longer than the previous ones but I hope you enjoy it! Please R &R!**

 **A/N: I really wanted to thank you all for the support! But I also wanted to briefly explain my creative process with this story so far. I like highlighting the differences in culture but I also like bringing real-world scenarios to life. I've gotten a little more political with these chapters but there is a reason. Who doesn't like backstabbing and betrayals, right? Well, there is more to it. I'm sure you've all noticed the similarity to Norse culture in Azgeda and I hope you enjoy it. I also hope you enjoy the way I am tying history, mythology, and the tradition of literary epics to this book. Basically, what I am trying to say, is that I am having a blast crafting this story for you. I truly think it is some of my best, and most fun, work so far. Please, feel free to let me know if there is too much/little narration or dialog or anything else you notice. I am always trying to improve.**

 **Again, enjoy!**

* * *

"You're not shooting a gun," Roan reminded, grasping Clarke's elbow and repositioning her arm. "It's a bow. Don't grip the arrow so tightly. Relax…"

"I can do this," Clarke said, taking a deep breath before aiming at the target. It was a mere ten yards away, her eyes firmly fixed on the circle at the center. She relaxed, gripped the arrow gently between her fingers, and pulled the string back taught, feeling Roan's prescience behind her as she did so. She'd already fired over ten arrows, most of them missing or coming up short. She didn't understand how she could be so bad at this.

"Don't hold," Roan suggested, watching her tense up. "Draw and release the arrow."

"I know," Clarke insisted, repositioning fingers. She let the arrow fly, this time barely managing to lodge it into the outside corner of the target, making Roan chuckle.

"You're improving," Roan admitted, looking down at her as she turned around. "Besides, we've been out here a couple hours and it is your first attempt at archery. You're being too hard on yourself."

"If a ten-year-old Azgeda child can do it, why can't I?" Clarke asked, the slight pout evident in her face.

"Are you always this cute when you whine?" Roan asked, leaning closer. "Do you need a hug?"

"I'm just saying…" Clarke trailed off, turning back around. "I was a decent shot with a gun."

"A bow is much more sophisticated," Roan offered. "Anyone can shoot a gun and hit a target, but it takes skill to wield a bow. You rely too heavily on fire-power."

"I disagree," Clarke frowned up at him over her shoulder. "It took me months to start hitting anywhere close to the center."

"Then don't be so hard on yourself," Roan nodded, pointing at the target. "You hit it, even if it wasn't moving…"

"Shut up," Clarke scowled, putting the bow back in the rack and turning to look at him. "I need a drink after all that. My arms are killing me…"

"I told you a lighter, smaller bow would be better for beginning," Roan chuckled, motioning for her to follow him into the guard-house. "I'm sure we've got ale in here somewhere…" Roan rummaged, moving some boxes aside.

"I'm skilled at riding horses," Clarke pointed, looking across the courtyard at the stables. "Maybe I can learn to shoot from horseback."

"Plains warriors learn to ride horses at a young age," Roan pointed, moving some more crates. "They learn to shoot from the saddle as early as seven years old…"

"I'll have to learn," Clarke chimed, thinking of her own horse, Kahl.

"Damn it," Roan cursed, glancing around. "No ale… I'll be right back."

"Don't take too long," Clarke motioned at the target. "I still want to try and hit the target before it gets dark."

Roan smirked, looking down at her as he approached, a hand going out to grasp her arm. She winced slightly, and Roan shook his head, grazing her skin gently. "You'll hurt yourself if you keep going," Roan suggested. "You're not used to wielding a bow. Don't go overboard."

"Just go get some ale," Clarke replied, feeling a slight blush creep over her chest and neck. She'd gotten better at controlling herself since Roan's confession. It had been nearly five days since then and now that her leg was no longer tender, she wanted to learn some sort of useful battle skills.

He nodded, flicking a lock of hair from her temple before walking back toward the kitchen entrance, making Clarke smirk. Roan, surprisingly, was a good friend. She wasn't sure if he was still playing a part or if he genuinely meant it, but she'd become more relaxed around the Azgeda royal. Clarke was deep in in thought about Roan when she heard a noise behind her. She looked to see Nia walking toward her, Roya and an unfamiliar girl following them. When they approached Clarke bowed slightly to them, watching the unfamiliar face of the older girl beside Roya.

"I see you're learning to shoot," Nia said, glancing at the target. "At least you hit the target. Come, I want you to meet my niece. This is Niara, Warchief of Nihrdelan."

"Warchief," Clarke greeted, bowing her head slightly. "Nihrdelan is the province of the far north, correct?"

"Correct," the girl replied, her eyes roaming over Clarke's appearance. "Do you know much about our northern province?"

"No, but I'd love to see it one day," Clarke affirmed, staying civil. "I hear it is beautiful in the far north and in summer you can see the skies turn green from the northern lights."

"Enough chit-chat," Nia urged, looking down at Clarke. "Have you decided what you're going to do? About Lexa?" Clarke glanced at Niara and Nia smirked, motioning to her companion. "She knows already," Nia assured, pressuring Clarke. "You'll have to do a better job on her than you did with us."

"I have a plan," Clarke said, her voice even. Nia loved a challenge and Clarke had picked up on that after her time here in the capital. The sadistic way she spoke to most people immediately unnerving Clarke.

"That's good," Niara chimed, glaring down at her. She had hair almost exactly like Nia's, her leather armor and chainmail littered with imperfections. She looked formidable, a silvery fur cloak around her shoulders. It wasn't until Niara turned her head that Clarke noticed that there was a hood, the wolf's shining eyes looking at her dangerously. "But the queen asked you what your plan was."

"Lexa knows me well enough to understand that this wouldn't be my first choice for an alliance," Clarke ground out, feeling bolder. "But she also knows I would do anything to protect and advance Arkadia."

"And that's your angle? Allying with an enemy to protect your people?" Nia questioned, seeming skeptical. "You'll have to do better than that," she drawled, her eyes closing in annoyance.

"And who is this Bellamy Blake?" Niara questioned, her steely gray eyes on Clarke's face. "Should we be concerned?"

"No," Clarke assured, stopping her voice from breaking at the sound of his name.

"Good," Niara nodded, glancing at Roya. Clarke thought she was being suspiciously quiet and she found out why. The look of annoyance and dislike for her cousin was written in her steel blue eyes.

"She's quite pathetic," Roya commented, glancing down at Clarke. "We should just kill her and be done with it."

"No," Nia said, glancing back at Roya. "She's the piece we need to secure Azgeda's future."

"She really is clueless," Niara teased, a smirk on her thin lips. "For once, I agree with Roya. Just kill her my Queen; Arkadia is primed to fall."

Clarke couldn't stop the shiver that overcame her as the breeze wafted over them, the dull and wet courtyard seeming to go deaf with the gale from the north. Clarke had never been so afraid, standing before three powerful, and obviously skilled, warriors. She couldn't compare, stacked against two warchiefs and a Queen of a brutal tribal nation. How could she? It wasn't even remotely possible in her position. Yet, she felt the pride well in her chest; she wasn't some hopeless child that would let them threaten her home, her family, and everyone she loved.

"You'd be wise to not underestimate us," Clarke replied, her voice steady but quiet. "It wouldn't be in your best interest."

Nia glared back at Clarke and both Roya and Niara clenched their jaws, as if expecting something terrible. Clarke felt the danger, the adrenaline, but didn't care. They could threaten her all they wanted but Arkadia was a different matter entirely.

"I could slice you, bowels to brains," Nia whispered, her tone dangerous. "And no one could do a thing about it. You might want to watch your mouth, girl."

"What's going on?" came Roan's voice, briskly walking across the courtyard with a jug under his arm. Clarke had never been so relieved to see him.

"Introducing me to your bride," Niara piped up, smiling almost unnaturally at Roan. "She's quite the beauty, Roan. Quite bold…"

"I see her attitude has overcome her better judgement again," Roan smirked, stepping up beside Clarke, wrapping a free arm around her shoulders. "I do admit, she's feisty but what can I say? I like it."

"I can see that," Niara smiled at her cousin, making Clarke finally snap back to reality. She'd been dazed by the situation, the adrenaline still coursing as Nia glanced back down at her. Roya never took her eyes off her, Roan's arm protectively holding her.

"So, shall we dine together?" Roan asked, looking between the women around him. "It's been a while since our last banquet. Summer solstice I think…"

"There is a banquet planned for tomorrow," Nia said, looking back up at her son. "The warchiefs are coming to the capital to see their future Queen. It's important that she play the part tomorrow so make sure she keeps her mouth shut."

"Can do," Roan nodded, guiding Clarke from their presence. She could feel their eyes on them as they made their way toward the tunnel, back toward the side entrance. Roan had kept his arm around her the whole time, both walking in casual silence but Clarke could feel her heart racing.

"Come on, let's have dinner in my rooms tonight," Roan suggested, opening the door to the stairs that lead up into the lower levels of the castle.

Clarke had gotten to know the fortress better over the past week and once she did, it was unbelievable how simple it was. The top floors were for the royal suites, reserved for the Royal family and their esteemed guests and ambassadors. The second floor was tucked away, for servant's quarters and other guests, mostly for ceremonies or festivals. Clarke could easily navigate from floor to floor now, enjoying the elaborate designs of each of the first-floor rooms. Built to intimidate, the first floor was nothing short of spectacular and Clarke used the size of the fortress to facilitate her physical therapy. Her leg was almost back to normal, the skin only tender when touched and she was thankful for the lack of complications.

"You really shouldn't provoke them," Roan sighed once they were back on the main floor, passing the giant vaulted rooms for the kitchen and furnaces. "I won't always be able to step in for you."

"And you shouldn't have to," Clarke said, her eyes narrowed. "I've never felt so helpless before. Who do they think they are? Intimidating me every chance they get…"

"They are the royal family of Azgeda," Roan chimed, a smirk on his face. "We're all royal pricks."

"I can see that," Clark scoffed, a smirk tugging on her lips.

"My whole family has trained since they were children to be warriors," Roan reminded, guiding her toward the long hall and staircase up to the top floors. "You can't beat them that way."

"I just don't understand," Clarke groaned. "They have me here, I've agreed to go along with their plans, and I'm even learning about Azgeda culture! I'm even learning your damn language. What else could they expect of me?"

"Ey-cargulae," Roan warned, Clarke recognizing the Azgedaslang word for careful.

"Yi ae knwei," Clarke griped, a smirk forming on his face.

"You've only been learning for a little over a week, but you are improving," Roan stated, using a few key Azgedaslang words.

"Taenqez frenae," Clarke replied, making Roan laugh as they crested the stairs.

"Ten qze fren," he corrected, the sound more guttural.

"Damn it," Clarke mumbled, glancing up at him.

"You'll get it…" he offered, walking behind her as she led the way to his suite.

Once inside, the door locked behind them, Clark sighed, removing her boots and jacket to reveal a warm tunic and woolen socks. She sat on the couch comfortably, nestled in the furs as Roan removed his own jacket and boots. She watched him curiously from the furs, lounging as he pulled off his leather jerkin. Clarke also couldn't help but notice the way his wool sweater was stretched over his muscular arms. She shook the thought from her head, grabbing the fur throw on the back of the couch and covering herself.

"What do you want to eat?" Roan asked, finally discarding his gloves and pouring them both a glass from the jug he'd brought with them.

"What are those pastries called? With the goat cheese, acorn melon?"

"Yufkae," Roan noted, smiling down at her, He knew those were her favorite, offering her the cup he'd poured. She sat up now, moving her legs aside so he could sit as well. She hadn't even realized how comfortable she was around him now, raising the goblet and toasting him before downing half of it.

"You realize Lexa will be on her way here soon," Roan approached, his voice calm. "I had been meaning to talk to you about it."

"I know but I honestly don't know what I am going to say to her," Clarke sighed, setting the cup on the ornate wooden table. "She's like a sister…"

"I honestly was hoping to let you take the lead," Roan admitted, leaning back on the couch. "So, no ideas?"

"The only viable option is to convince her that this is the most logical option," Clarke nodded. "She has to see that I'm content and set on my decision…"

"Can you do that? Make her think that this is real?" Roan asked, his voice quiet.

"She'll throw everything she's got at me," Clarke admitted, her head lulling back against the furs to stare at the ceiling. "My parents, friends, Arkadia… she'll even throw Bellamy at me if she's spoken to Raven or Wells at all."

"Well," Roan drawled, turning his head toward her lazily. "Pretend I'm Lexa." Roan then nodded, screwing up his face with a grin. "Clarke… why don't you come home? Why don't you want to leave?" His voice was high-pitched, and it was comical, making Clarke giggle. "Come on Claaaarke," he teased. "Arkadia needs you… Bellamy won't stop whining…"

"Very funny," Clarke nudged, shaking her head. "Be serious…. I don't know how your plan is going to work if Lexa and the Coalition start interfering."

"I may have been a little…" he paused, thinking of the word. "Secretive about my plans."

"You don't' say?" Clarke scoffed, grabbing her cup.

"Just listen," Roan said, his tone a bit cautious. "There is more to me becoming King than convincing a few warlords and councilors." He downed the rest of his ale, setting the cup down before turning back to her. "I didn't know if I could trust you yet, so I'll share with you what I think is going to happen."

Clarke considered him quietly, watching his face before she shrugged, downing the rest of the ale. She set the cup down and leaned back next to Roan, looking over at him somberly. She couldn't help but appreciate the way his mind raced behind his eyes. The anticipation mounted, and she was unsure if she was ready to hear Roan's brilliant prediction.

"I know you've been calm about this whole situation lately," Roan began, grinning at her. "And I appreciate it because I know how hard it is for you."

"Don't patronize me," she smirked, rolling her eyes. "Just tell me…"

"You see, for me, you were initially meant to be a distraction," Roan admitted, his eyes going to the low fire burning in the hearth. "Not for me but for my mom and sister. They've had their plans for a while now, so I knew something was up. There is more resistance on the council than there should be to my marriage and ascension. In fact, I've felt that something has been off for a while now."

"My mother has always been…" Roan paused, unsure what words to use. Somehow, she could see the vulnerable side of him now and it concerned her. It made her uneasy and he must have known because he looked over at her sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "But there seems to be something going on and I'm not comfortable with it. So, I'm making a move before they do."

"That seems risky," Clarke admitted, always being the wait-and-see type.

"I have the element of surprise," Roan nodded. "They don't know that I am on to them or that I've been planning a coup."

"You never needed me," Clarke stated, making him nod slowly.

"You were never part of my plan," he confessed, a smile forming on his face. "Though, I do appreciate the addition…"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Clarke asked, wondering how this threw off their plans for Lexa.

"Would you be opposed to going along with my mother's plans for a while longer?"

"And what will you be doing?" Clarke questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"The warlords are coming tomorrow. Though my sister and cousin are firmly on my mother's side, the others can be persuaded to support me." Roan nodded, looking back at the fire. "I also have powerful allies amongst the Lake People who will favor my ascension in the Coalition."

"What is going to happen?"

"You shouldn't ask me that," Roan replied, his voice quiet, low. "You don't what to know."

"Are you going to kill your mother? Your sister?" Clarke asked, dread washing over her. "There has to be another way…"

"There are things about my family, about this crown, that you don't know," Roan admitted, his eyes growing dark. "If I told you, you'd be even more frightened."

"I'm already frightened," Clarke sighed, leaning against him. "Tell me."

"I have reason to believe my mother killed my father to gain the throne," Roan almost whispered, his voice barely audible. "And it's been a bloody legacy, keeping our family on the throne."

"Is she that power-hungry?" Clarke asked, gazing at the ceiling. "How do you know it was her?"

"She is, that's why she doesn't want me to ascend," Roan replied. "She has always suspected me, always preferred Roya for the crown."

"I can't begin to understand your position," Clarke admitted, glancing up at him. "But I'll trust your judgement, if you'll trust mine."

"Which is?" Roan asked, his eyes firmly fixed on her face.

"Don't kill them," she replied, her voice soft as velvet. Roan couldn't help but swallow, her lips parting slowly. "Strip them of title, possessions, and honor but don't kill them. Isn't it better to have leverage, should their supporters revolt?"

"Vicious," Roan admitted, a smile forming on his lips. "Since when are you such a tactician?"

"You hardly know me," Clarke smirked. "I've been learning all about you but so far, you don't really know anything about me."

"I do too," Roan protested, his eyes narrowing. "You love cheese filled pastries, your bold but completely in over your head and the best part is that you know it. You're passionate but wise, strong in some ways as well. You're a natural with people and a quick learner. Thinking that I don't know you proves you obviously don't understand me."

"That's not fair," Clarke protested, the pout in her face making Roan smirk.

"You could know me better," Roan teased, leaning over to touch her cheek. "But I haven't yet convinced you…"

"Stop it," Clarke said, feeling a little breathless as his fingertips grazed her cheek. "You promised."

"I know," he groaned, leaning back against the couch again. "No seduction, no pressure but when you pout like that, I can't help it."

"I don't pout," Clarke sighed, shaking her head. "Just take my advice, that is all I am saying."

"I'll consider it," he nodded, watching her closely. "But I do admit, seeing you comfortable, sprawled out under my furs, on my couch, is satisfying. I feel like you're seducing me instead."

"I could never…" she affirmed, shaking her head.

"You know how sexy you are," Roan stated as a matter-of-fact, his eyes full of skepticism. "I feel like you're the one doing the seducing."

"I'm not some sort of seductress," Clarke scoffed, looking away from him. "I already told you how I felt."

"And I believe you," Roan nodded, his voice quiet. "But I still don't understand why you can't love me."

"There is more to love than just physical attraction," Clarke replied, rolling her eyes at him. This made Roan turn toward her and Clarke was unsure if he'd flexed his chest on purpose, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"So, you find me physically attractive?" he asked, noticing the blush rising on her neck and ears.

"Just stop," Clarke protested, looking away from him. She hadn't noticed how close he got until she felt his warm breath on her neck.

"Why not admit it? We're equally attracted to one another," Roan breathed, making Clarke bite her lip again.

"Please, stop," Clarke replied, feeling just as weak as her voice.

"I'm just trying to be straight forward," Roan replied, backing away from her. "I want you and I can't help but wonder if maybe, someday, you could want me too."

"Even if I did want you," Clarke replied, trying to regain herself. "It wouldn't change the fact that I love Bellamy."

"I think I understand," Roan stated, making Clarke glance over at him. She was expecting anger but instead, he was met with a smile of determination. "But the fact still stands that I want you, not only as a partner in crime but as a queen, as my wife."

"You're crazy," Clarke replied, her eyes wide. "How could you even consider that when half of your court, your nobles, despise the idea of a foreign Queen?"

"I don't care," Roan shrugged. "There has been far too much bureaucracy lately. The crown has become weak, beholden to the warlords. I think it's time that changed. I'm sure I can persuade the people to back my choice for a bride."

"You're acting as if I've agreed to this," Clarke protested. "You don't understand. I'm not in love with you."

"Not even a little?" Roan asked, a quizzical look on his face. "If someone were to come in here, right now, and kill me, how would you feel?"

"Scared," Clarke admitted, biting her lip. "Don't misunderstand. I like you; I understand how you think and consider you a friend and ally but I'm not in love with you."

"But I know you better than you think," Roan pressed, his voice turning smooth, the gravel in his tone making Clarke feel warm. "You love the idea of being a Queen."

"Excuse me?" Clarke questioned, the bewildering statement feeling a little heavy on her chest.

"I can see it," Roan smirked. "It takes a royal to spot a royal and you exude royalty. The moment I actually met you, saw your fire and your wit, I knew you weren't the typical Arkadian heiress."

"Stop," Clarke said sharply, making him grin even wider.

"And it bothers you that I can see it," Roan nodded. "I won't promise you an easy life. That would be a lie, but I can promise you real power. No squabbling council or ruling families to contend with. You'll be a queen, set above the rest with real power to make a change. But above all, you'd be able to truly protect Arkadia. What better way than to make your enemy your family?"

"Don't you think I've never considered it?" Clarke replied bitterly, making him pause. "Do you think I haven't thought about what this could mean? Knowing who you are and how you think hasn't made this decision any easier."

"Then stop fighting it," Roan replied, quietly. "Am I so unappealing?"

"It is because you are appealing," Clarke groaned, crossing her arms over her chest again. Roan remained silent, glancing at her occasionally as she sat beside him, mulling over her thoughts.

She felt sick to her stomach, reminding herself of the way she felt with Bellamy. The reason she loved him, the reasons she needed him. But over the past couple weeks her world had expanded, things had changed. The guilt she felt over it haunted her every moment of every day. She had to get home, to Bellamy and her family. She refused to give up on him, to take the easy way out. Being compliant with Roan, and Nia's plans, made her feel like she'd betrayed everyone she'd ever cared about. And the thought of Bellamy torturing himself over her abduction was more than she could stomach. She knows it was love between them and she wasn't going to give up on her plans to be with Bellamy. She wasn't going to give up her home, her friends, her entire way of life for a crown.

But she was so tempted; she could feel it in her core. She wanted it and Roan was right. She could affect real change, be part of the solution with absolute power to protect her people as well as the people of Azgeda. The thought of having that, of sharing it with someone like Roan, was alluring. It was her greed, the greed she always knew was there, even if her friends and family didn't believe it.

"You're thinking too much," Roan commented, drawing her back to reality. "I know you could be comfortable with me. You're too smart, too noble, too mature to want anything less."

Roan then did something unexpected, something Clarke had never been prepared for. He turned, slid his arm under her, and lifted her into his lap. She stiffened, her back to him as she sat there, feeling the warmth from his body as he wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her close. She felt his lips on her shoulder, then her neck, the fur falling off her as he held her in his lap. She couldn't describe the thrill of feeling him beneath her, the tender way he held her on his lap and trailed his lips over her shoulder and neck making her head swim.

"S-stop," Clarke said, pulling away to move back to the couch, feeling his hand graze her hip as she moved. "I'm not in love with you."

"Fine," Roan conceded, standing up. "I won't bother you again, but you seriously need to consider what you're turning down."

That night Clarke didn't sleep well, tossing on Roan's bed as she tried to turn off her brain. She couldn't stop it, the feeling of enjoyment the night had left her with. Roan was generous, kind, and attentive which made the rest of the night so relaxed. Clarke couldn't remember the last time she had lounged about and enjoyed a quiet evening. They had dinner, talked, and surprisingly enough Roan had made Clarke feel completely at home. He even made her laugh, something she hadn't really expected from him.

It bothered her that she felt so comfortable, so curious, about him. It was as if she'd known him her whole life. Without even realizing it, she'd started considering Roan as more than a friend. She just couldn't deny how tempting he was and she didn't think it was only his physical appearance. His offer, the temptation of power and to be Queen of Azgeda, had shaken every single plan she'd made. She questioned everything, her mind racing as she lay under the warm fur covers. His scent surrounded her and that didn't help, every single scenario racing through her like a flood.

"Bellamy," Clarke whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn't stop from seeing his face and she didn't want to. She never thought it'd hurt so much to be apart from him. All she wanted right now was to be in his arms and the more she yearned for it, the harder it became to control herself. She pictured his hands embracing her, his lips caressing her skin, and the warmth of his body against her as she sank further into her fantasy. She could feel the heat pooling in her stomach as she pictured what he could do to her, his lips trailing down her collarbone as before. The rough texture of his fingertips venturing over her skin sent shivers through her.

Clarke had never felt this way, her body immediately reacting to the fantasy making Clarke sigh with annoyance. She didn't want to feel this way, this unbelievable desire to have Bellamy close by driving her insane. What was worse was that she felt restless about her relationship with Bellamy. She was keenly aware of Roan's prescience only a room away, the need to feel someone's touch sorely tempting her to follow her most base desires.

She was so angry, and frustrated, with her situation. She should have been spending all her time trying to find a way home instead of wasting her time with Roan. She also felt an undeniable sense of defeat, having contemplated for hours the possibilities in an escape. It also pained her that she had happy moments with Roan when she knew Bellamy was thinking about her, and her liberation, every single day. She could almost feel how desperate he was, and it nearly broke her heart. It hurt so much to miss him, and she couldn't stop the heavy feeling on her chest.

What could she do? Was she seriously considering Roan? Was is best to just give up on Bellamy and this painful feeling? She knew it was only because they were separated that she felt this way but that frightened her too. She didn't want to feel like this – so dependent on someone else. She didn't need anyone else, she knew she didn't. She knew herself and knew she could have easily taken care of a situation like this before meeting Bellamy. She could have approached this situation logically instead of feeling this crushing guilt.

She had to separate herself from her emotions and think about everything. Those thoughts, the rush of ideas, kept her up for hours. By the time she had noticed that she was falling asleep with her thoughts, the sky had started to lighten, and the moon had almost sunk into the horizon. The misery was still there, the torture of inaction and confusion about herself, and her world, exhausting her into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Keep up," Bellamy yelled over his shoulder, leading Jon and Landell down the wide dirt road. They'd been galloping since daybreak, the sun peaking overhead as they approached a small creek, Bellamy pulling up to wait for them. His impatience had gotten the better of him that morning and the hard ride had worn out his horse already. He dismounted as his companions approached, allowing his horse to drink from the creek as they rested.

"We've been riding all morning," Jon sighed, leading his horse to the streaming water. "We'll get there well before sundown at this rate."

"Good," Bellamy insisted, grasping the reins as his horse drank. "We need to get information out of this man and I don't think it is going to be easy. Even if we don't need to know where the capital is, we still need to know everything that he does about the city and their fortress."

"If the files hadn't been scrubbed from the archives, Monty could have saved us an entire trip out here," Jon noted, patting his horse as it drank from the stream. Landell had pulled up beside them now, allowing his horse to drink.

"How much further?" Bellamy asked him, glancing about their surroundings. They were stopped just before a small wooden bridge, the ditch shallow, and wide enough, to be jumped easily on horseback. The few trees that lined the ditch were all tinted with orange and yellow, a sign of the season as many of the leaves had already fallen to the damp earth. It had been misting that morning when they left but had stopped a short while ago. The fields that surrounded the dirt road were all turned over, cut down, and the remaining vegetation was starting to brown and rot.

"A few hours," Landell replied, glancing across the fields. "But we should rest the horses a while. They've been going non-stop since dawn."

"We don't' have time," Bellamy urged, patting his horses' flanks as it continued to graze on the grass along the creek.

"We have enough time," Landell assured, looking up at the sky now. "It looks like the rain is clearing up."

"We'll rest here for a moment," Jon affirmed, interrupting Bellamy's impatient response. "The horses need it and we should check in with Monty, Harper, and Raven."

"I'll contact Wells," Landell nodded, looking down at his handheld.

"Monty," Bellamy said, bringing his handheld up to his mouth. The two-way capability made it easy for long-distance use and Monty had jammed a channel from being monitored by the ARF for their use. "Any news?"

"Lexa has made contact," came Raven's voice over the small speaker. "She will be in Arkadia in two days. We've been monitoring transmissions between the military and the Embassy Guard. They aren't suspicious."

"What about police activity? Has there been an increase?"

"No, everything is normal," Raven responded with a sardonic tone. Bellamy knew what she meant. Since Clarke's kidnapping, security had been nearly tripled.

"What about the drone? How is that coming along?"

"Monty and I have written some code that we're testing on it right now. So far, we have been unable to establish further reach, but we have improved handling capability. We have to work on the imaging software; a functioning live feed may not be possible yet."

"Keep working on it," Bellamy assured, glancing across the creek at the rabbit that had jumped from the brush and was hopping across the open field. "What about Harper?"

"Captain Hatal has been given four days leave due to his father's health," Raven replied. "He should be on his way home, perhaps even there already."

"Good; we'll establish contact again when we reach the farm," Bellamy assured, putting his handheld in his pocket. He then looked at Landell who was in a conversation on his own handheld. Jon was standing nearing him, both men talking into the speaker. Bellamy couldn't hear much of the conversation from where he stood but Jon noticed him looking. He stepped away from Landell, clapping him on the shoulder before coming over to Bellamy.

"Wells sat in on the council meeting this morning," Jon assured. "The council has passed the proposal to increase military spending as well as policing initiatives. They have also agreed to release some of the winter rations to some of the northern bases."

"What about the situation with Polis? Raven just said Lexa will be in Arkadia in 2 days," Bellamy informed him, looking back at their grazing horses. "We should have taken a rover."

"And drawn attention to ourselves?" Jon laughed, shaking his head. "Just relax; Wells also said that the council has approved Lexa and her delegation's request to meet in Arkadia for a final decision on terms with Azgeda."

"And do we know what those terms are?"

"Wells is working tirelessly with the guilds as well as the other families to push for the return of Clarke," Landell interrupted, grabbing his horse's reins. "Not only is an abduction of an Arkadian citizen a direct violation of our peace treaty but it is also a conflict of interest for Jake Griffin to propose any sort of demands on the delegation."

"So, it is up to the other council members to push for Clarke's safe release?" Jon asked, eyeing them both.

"My father and Thelonious will push for her release," Landell assured. "So, it is up to you two to rally the other two councilmen."

"Make sure you push this," Bellamy said, looking directly at Jon. "You represent my family's interests in council now."

"It has to be a unanimous vote," Landell pointed, all three of them growing quiet. "The council is already two official members short on this vote, since Jake has to abstain, and Jon is only representing your family in council. He doesn't get an official vote. So, it comes down to Ichiru Green and Roland McIntyre."

"And we already know which way they will vote," Jon groaned, looking up at Bellamy. "Even if I throw my full weight behind this, there is no way to get both to say yes. Monty has been dreading this for weeks, ever since father put off the vote the first time they met about this issue."

"And Roland is a hardliner," Landell nodded, considering his options. "What we need is some sort of leverage or persuasion for the both of them."

"What we need is pressure," Bellamy retorted, looking between them. "With three out of five votes against them, they are already going to be feeling the pressure. Most citizens, if not all, are pressing for retaliation but we both know Ichiru and Roland aren't going to give in to that pressure. They've held this grudge, and fought against Jake, for too long to give in now. What we need is something drastic…"

"Monty and Harper won't be eligible to take over their parent's seats until their marriage becomes official on their 18th birthdays," Jon reasoned, looking over at Landell. "And let's not forget that I barely made it onto the council. It was only because the Blake's needed a representative that the council could agree to."

"And that took a lot of persuasion on our end," Landell pointed. "But there has to be something we can do to force their vote."

"There is only one instance that I have ever read about that would allow for a two-thirds majority on this vote," Bellamy said, his voice low. "And it would be a stretch to apply that concession to this situation."

"Now that they are about to be blood related, there is no way to persuade one without the other," Landell urged, running his hand over his horse's front leg.

"Which is why the only option left open to us is a drastic one," Bellamy reasoned, his mind racing. "This has only ever happened two times in Arkadian history and both times were abnormal circumstances." Both Jon and Landell stared at him blankly, Bellamy reasoning how to enact the plan in the swiftest manner.

"We need a petition, signed and approved by the guilds, 4 out of 5 generals, and the judiciary committee," Bellamy explained, making both boys stare at him. "It's the same measure used during the civil war when the council was overturned."

"That was because of the war," Landell reasoned, shaking his head. "That wouldn't apply to this situation, especially if we are trying to reach a diplomatic solution."

"It's clear in the articles of governance," Bellamy argued, looking between the two. "The council can be overturned and re-elected on two conditions: immediate threat of war or the spread of an epidemic."

"How would that even work?" Jon asked, grabbing his horse's reins and patting his neck. "It may be a bigger challenge to convince that many officials to sign such a petition."

"The guilds, who represent the working class, would make an appeal to the Military Union," Bellamy explained. "They would discuss it with their members and if approved, it would be sent to the five generals who oversee the deployment, and organization, of the army. Once approved by four of the generals, it would be confirmed by the three High Court Judges who would then pass their verdict on to the council."

"But that means the guilds, army, and judges would all have to agree on the six new council members," Landell scoffed, shaking his head. "Do you know how difficult that would be?"

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill," Bellamy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We are in a precarious situation and the people know it. The entire military has been in a scramble ever since the abduction and even the common people are preparing for war. There is justification to initiate this protocol and I'm positive that the guilds, justices, and generals can be persuaded to see reason."

"And the new council?" Jon asked, looking between them. "It's obviously going to be Monty, Harper, Wells, and Landell but what about the Griffin and Blake families? And won't there be a little pushback considering how young all of the new council members will be?"

"We'll nominate Clarke as the council for the Griffin family," Landell suggested, Bellamy smiling in approval. "If she is elected council, that also justifies the new council's decision to demand her return with the Polis delegation."

"I don't want to be on the council," Jon piped up, making both men look at him. "I'm not fit for long meetings and political backstabbing, so it will have to be you."

"You know my plan," Bellamy said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I need you to represent my family's interests until O can join the council."

"You are seriously going to sacrifice yourself?" Landell asked, looking over Bellamy closely. "I don't know if you are aware of this but, Clarke would never approve such a reckless plan."

"She doesn't have a choice," Bellamy replied firmly, shaking his head. "If anyone can straighten all of this out, and keep our people safe, it is Clarke."

"I can't help but feel like you're punishing yourself," Landell pointed, making Bellamy glare at him. "I mean, how would this new council even work with an absent Griffin and Blake representative?"

"The people won't be happy," Jon interjected. "They could see this as an unstable short-term solution to a growing problem."

"No matter what the council demands of Azgeda, or how persuasive Lexa is willing to be, Azgeda will not willingly give up their hostage," Bellamy reasoned, grabbing his own horse's reins. "She's Nia's scapegoat and catalyst for the war she's intending to wage."

"I hope you don't plan on this going entirely your way," Landell sighed, mounting his horse now. "Assuming we get the information we want, get Clarke out, and Nia doesn't kill you, the situation is far from stable. If she does press ahead with your marriage to Roya, it still doesn't stop her from using you against Arkadia. We all know Clarke would do anything to keep you safe."

"It also doesn't change the fact that you've now made the path to the throne that much more difficult for Roya," Landell continued as both Bellamy and Jon mounted their swaying horses. "If what you said is true, Clarke is a useful piece on the board. How are you planning on compensating Nia for this loss of a perfect scapegoat?"

"She already plans on murdering her son," Bellamy said, his voice cold. "She'll do it, one way or another, and blame it on Arkadia. I don't think that part of the plan will ever change."

"But you could be shifting the blame onto yourself," Jon pointed, following the two as they guided their horses over the small wooden bridge. "And you won't have any allies in Azgeda; you'll be looking over your shoulder the entire time."

"It is better than the alternative," Bellamy assured, making both Landell and Jon exchange doubtful looks.

"We'll talk more about this later," Landell finally said, the three of them cresting a small barrow to look out over the rolling fields. "The farm is only a couple more hours away; let's hope this farmer is in a cooperative mood."

"With both his son and daughter there, I don't doubt that he'll be more than cooperative," Bellamy replied, trotting off after Landell as he pulled his hood up over his head. Bellamy doubted that the farmer had revealed everything to his children, if anything at all. He also wanted the threat of deportation to hang over his head, just in case he wasn't willing to do his patriotic duty.

* * *

"I'm not sure what to do," Clarke said, looking up at Roan nervously. For the past hour she'd been allowing Bruni to help her dress for the banquet that night. All the Azgeda War Chiefs would be here along with their delegations which made Clarke a little more than nervous. She'd barely been able to master even a little bit of their language and she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of them. On top of that, Nia, Roya, and Niara would all be there, undoubtedly ready to insult or embarrass her.

"Just remember," Roan encouraged, tightening the fur and heavy velvet cloak around his neck. "Be assertive but humble… Niara might be set against you but the others don't know anything about my mysterious Arkadian bride. Just be your brilliant self and I'll be right there to back you up."

"I'm so nervous," she admitted, straightening the outfit that Bruni had helped her put on. It was a slate gray dress that draped loosely around her chest, tightening around her waist and hips as it cascaded to the floor. She'd worn a pair of flats with them, the trim of both her dress and shoes a brilliant Azgeda blue. Her hair was also pulled up on top of her head, ringlets of curls and waves falling down the middle of her back as she inspected herself in the mirror. She pulled her fur half-jacket on now, covering her bare arms with the white and silver furs.

"There is no need to be so nervous," Roan smiled, coming to stand next to her. "You're beautiful, smart, and every eye will be on you tonight. Just remember what we discussed."

Clarke nodded, inspecting herself again in the mirror. She remembered everything Roan had told her about the regional leaders, their names, their families, and their pleasures. Warlord Adrax, whose family had been chieftains of the western province of Wisteria since the founding of Azgeda, enjoyed drinking and gambling. He had two wives, three sons, and two daughters. Since Niara was chieftain of the northern provinces, and Roya the southern, the only one left to introduce herself to was Rajnon, Warlord of Estellan in the east. Roan knew the most about this chieftain, both being friends since childhood. Roan had told her about the stoic young man and his family. He was newly married, his wife expecting their first child within a matter of weeks and Clarke had made a mental note to inquire about her health. If there was anything Clarke could offer Azgeda, it was her medical knowledge.

Clarke also remembered what Roan said about their delegations. Each Warlord had brought his three closest warriors as well as their retainers. The palace, which had seemed empty the day before, had bloomed to life with over thirty guests staying in the royal residence. Each Warlord showed favor to their warrior council, but it was the shamans that they'd brought with them that were most revered. Though Azgeda followed the religion of their ancestors, honoring Heda and the conclave, they also had their own regional shamans who, as Clarke understood, prophesized the future and interpreted omens. It seemed that this was a central part of their culture and Clarke had made sure Roan left out no details.

Clarke had tried desperately, and with some success, to memorize the names of these shamans and the warchiefs warrior council. She knew that protocol, and etiquette, dictated that they introduce themselves to her, but she wasn't prepared for a smooth night. In fact, she expected it to be mostly uneasy and frightening. She inspected herself one more time in the mirror, fixing the charcoal eye-makeup that Bruni had put on her. It had highlighted the brilliant blue of her eyes, but it was also intended to mirror Roan's own face paint. Both of his eyelids and below them were stained with a slate gray powder that, Clarke only assumed, was traditional for this sort of gathering.

"We don't want to be late," Roan offered, snatching the silver crown that Bruni had been holding. He stepped in front of Clarke, placing the thin but heavy piece into her hair. After standing there adjusting it for a moment, and nodding at the result, he allowed Clarke to look in the mirror again at her reflection. She was quite shocked at the result; the crown, though simple, had dual meaning. Not only did it symbolize her acceptance into the royal family, but it also symbolized Clarke's position amongst the banqueters. She would be seated at the head of the table with Roan and the rest of his family, which he explained might be a bit shocking for some. She would even be seated above Niara and Roya, officially announcing to the room that she was to be their future Queen.

"Let's go," Roan nodded, offering his arm. The couple made their way downstairs slowly and heard drums, horns, and singing from the hall as they approached. Clarke wasn't expecting the banquet to be so big, or so rowdy. In fact, she'd expected a formal affair but was surprised by how informal it actually was. A large pig was roasting over the long-fire as servants basted and turned it. There were three large tables set up about the hall, stretching down either side of the fire and at the front of the room sat the royal table. It was there that Nia was seated, speaking with a man Clarke didn't recognize.

The musicians were seated in the gallery above, the music wafting over the group as they spoke loudly to one another. Clarke could only make out bits and pieces of conversation as Roan escorted her past curious eyes to the head table. The hall, though large, was simply decorated. The Azgeda flag hung over their table and boughs of pine and ivy were strewn between columns and across tables. Each table had benches lining it and in the center were trenches of food, flanked by more pine branches and candles. Clarke was astonished at all the people in the room, most of them glancing her way as they approached Nia.

Both Clarke and Roan bowed respectfully before taking their seats to the right of Nia. Once seated, Clarke stared out over the hall and noticed that most of the people here were unfamiliar. She took in each face, watching them politely as they talked amongst themselves, some of the already drunk on the casks of ale and mead that had been set up about the hall. It was only when Roan nudged her with his leg that she realized he'd been talking to her.

"Don't look so nervous," he whispered, making her smile at him. "This isn't some stuffy Arkadian affair so relax."

"It is not what I expected," she replied, keeping her face serene but natural. She didn't want any of the fifty people around the hall to think that she was at all displeased. In fact, she had hoped to earnestly help Roan that night, a sentiment she didn't feel guilty about at all. "It's so informal and relaxed…"

"Have a drink," Roan nodded with a slight hint of a smile, pushing a goblet into her hands. It was one of the only ones in the room to be made of silver. "I'll tell you who everyone is."

"Everyone?" Clarke asked, sipping at the sweet honey mead in her cup.

"Just the important ones," he assured, turning toward her slightly. "Just relax, you're doing fine."

"I can feel them watching us," Clarke said, stopping herself from looking around the room. She faced Roan now, keeping the serenity in her tone as she feigned genuine interest.

"Just drink, eat, and wait for it to liven up," Roan nodded, glancing about the room lazily. "Alright, do you see Roya and Niara, over by the fire talking to an older man, red beard?"

"Yes," Clarke replied with a nod, her eyes immediately finding the trio talking, laughing, and occasionally glancing their way. "Who is he?"

"That's Adrax," Roan replied, taking a drink. Clarke mirrored him unconsciously, catching a glimpse of Niara who was still in conversation with the older man she didn't recognize. He had gray hair and a simple robe on, lined around the collar and sleeves with brown fur.

"That's Zenvegen," Roan commented, knowing exactly who she was looking at. "He's the Shaman from Nihrdelan and has been a close friend with my mother since she was a child." Roan nodded at someone who was approaching now, and Clarke turned to look at them, not recognizing this man as well.

He was tall, dark haired, with umber eyes and a long nose. He was just as tall as Roan, about the same age, wearing a dark green velvet tunic with leather slacks and deep brown fur trimmed his collar. He bowed to Nia who looked him over slowly before nodding, the man turning to look first at Roan then Clarke. He bowed his head to them slightly and then firmly fixed his gaze on Clarke.

"I finally get to meet the Arkadian woman," he said, his Azgedaslang accent unfamiliar to Clarke. It sounded slurred and shortened, Clarke only registering his words after Roan had replied with a laugh, raising his glass to the man.

"This," Roan said in English, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Is Clarke Griffin, Jacob Griffin's heir. Clarke, this is my friend Rajnon from Estellan. I've known him since I was a boy and he's been bothering me with letters for weeks now begging to meet you."

"I can't be that interesting," Clarke said, trying out her Azgedaslang accent. "I know little of your language, but I am learning fast."

"I do speak English," Rajnon assured, smiling at her pleasantly. "But your accent is good, perhaps a bit too refined."

"Come," Roan offered, motioning to the chair next to Clarke. "Sit, let's talk."

Rajnon bowed his head, moving around the end of the table to plop down in the chair. Clarke could tell he'd had more than one ale and couldn't help but smile at the devious look in his eyes.

"You have acquired such a fine jewel," Rajnon asserted, looking from Clarke to Roan. "When should we expect the ceremony?"

"If only I knew," Roan replied, a smirk on his face. "We've yet to discuss it but I'm sure there are plans in motion."

"Many, so I am told," he replied, looking back at Clarke curiously. "So, princess, tell me about yourself. Tell me how you decided to become this fools woman."

"I didn't choose him," Clarke affirmed, remembering what Roan had told her about the Azgeda's dedication to their religion. "Fate did."

"I see," Rajnon nodded, raising his glass to her. She took hers in hand and raised it, taking a modest drink. She knew this mead was strong and didn't want to go overboard. "So, has our prince told you anything about me?" He was slurring his words now and Clarke wasn't sure how to take it; this wasn't the man Roan had described.

"He told me you were mischievous," Clarke nodded, a smile on her face. "He said you were quite stoic though, something I'm finding hard to believe."

"He's usually the long face in the room where serious matters are concerned," Roan interjected, nodding at him. "What's wrong? You already seem a bit drunk."

"You're a doctor, right princess?" he asked, the realization washing over him as he stared over at her curiously. "An Arkadian healer?"

"I am," she said, her eyebrow raising curiously. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"

"My wife," he admitted, the slur in his voice starting to show in his heavy Azgedaslang accent. "She's having problems with her pregnancy."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Roan asked, eying his friend curiously.

"She is due in a few weeks, but she insisted on coming here for the banquet," the drunken man admitted, motioning at a heavily pregnant blonde who was sitting on a bench next to the long fire. She looked fine, chatting with the other women around her eagerly.

"I could take a look at her later," Clarke offered, smiling at him softly. "I've assisted in the delivery of a few babies, but I was mostly a surgeon."

"I'd appreciate it," he replied, trying to regain himself. "Your man is right though, normally I don't make such a fool of myself."

"It's not foolish to worry about your pregnant wife," Clarke laughed, patting his arm. "Far from it."

Rajnon stared at her for a moment, as if analyzing something odd and Clarke felt a blush creep up on her neck. She picked up her drink, taking a sip from it as she gazed around the room again, keenly aware of more eyes on her. She could feel Rajnon's eyes still as she set her drink back down, turning to Roan again as he watched his friend curiously.

"So, who else should I know?" she asked, glancing back to her right. Rajnon had stopped looking at her and she noticed a distant look in his eyes as he picked up his cup again.

"There, standing at the end of the far table in the white and black fur," Roan nodded, drawing Clarke's attention to the young man, his pale gray eyes focused firmly on the two men in front of him. "That is Arista, the shaman from Wisteria. He's always been odd, but he is the youngest appointed shaman in Azgeda history. He took the position at twelve years old after the previous shaman had declared that that boy had a great destiny."

"He can't be much older than me," Clarke said, looking at the men next to him.

"Those are two of the warrior council from Wisteria," Roan pointed. "And the woman that just joined my sister is the shaman from Revhala; her name is Yaega."

Clarke noticed how tall Yaega was, towering over Roya. She was slim, pale, and had brilliant silver hair that dangled in carved wooden rings down her back. She had to have been older than Nia, the lines about her face accented by the blue symbols painted on her cheeks.

"We must introduce her to my sister," Rajnon chimed in, making both Clarke and Roan look at him now. "Her name is Ghida and she is also the shaman of Estellan." Rajnon then stood up again, offering his hand to Clarke. She nodded with a polite smile, standing up and taking his arm in hers. She allowed him to lead her from the table down the center of the room, some eyes watching them as they approached a small group of people near the center for the room. Clarke could almost taste the tension and nervousness in her mouth as they walked together through the groups of drinking, partying, and talking Azgeda warriors.

"Ghida," Rajnon said, gaining the attention of a curvy young woman dressed in forest green. The rest of the group all turned to him as well, the three warriors bowing their heads slightly to her. Clarke inclined her head to them, feeling a bit nervous about being introduced to this way. She wasn't sure if Rajnon noticed but the young woman in green had her caramel-brown eyes on Clarke as Rajnon spoke. "This is Clarke Griffin of Arkadia. Clarke, this is my sister, and the Shaman priestess of Estellan, Ghida."

Ghida looked her over slowly for a moment before bowing her head and offering, to Clarke's amazement, a traditional Arkadian greeting. Clarke took the shaman's forearm in her hand firmly, mirroring one another with slight smiles. Clarke also noticed the looks the small group was getting with such an odd greeting. Clarke had found out that the Azgeda tradition of greeting old friends, and strangers, was an embrace.

"I've heard little about you, Clarke," Ghida confessed in Azgedaslang, watching her curiously. "When I was told that Roan had become engaged, I took it upon myself to read his runes and stars. I found some very interesting omens hidden there."

It took Clarke a moment to comprehend her words, but it was becoming easier, the accent not entirely foreign to her. "You've seen his fate?" Clarke asked her, hoping her own accent was as good as Rajnon said.

"I have seen many fates," Ghida confirmed, the air of mysticism about her making the rest of the group go silent. Clarke noticed the way they all waited for her to speak again, as if they had expected something more from the young shaman. However, Ghida just smiled serenely and Clarke could see why she'd been the center of the small group's attention. She was a beautiful woman, her dark hair loosely hanging over her shoulders, interlaced with bone and wooden ornaments and rings. Her face was round, but her neck was long, and she had a beautiful smile that, Clarke believed, could warm the entire room.

"Do you often see the fates of others?" Clarke queried, making sure not to sound skeptical. After all, she didn't want to offend someone that she was sure was a close friend of Roans.

"As often as the Gods allow," she professed, her eyes soft. "Would you like to know yours?"

"The Gods do not care for someone like me," Clarke replied, finding it a little more difficult to continue the conversation in Azgedaslang. She had been earnestly trying to learn and had even been speaking with Roan and Bruni every day, but their conversations were never this long or detailed.

"The Gods have already decided your fate, Clarke Griffin," Gisla said, making a few heads around the small group turn to listen.

Clarke didn't want to question the idea of a divine fate waiting for her nor did she want to sound apprehensive. She'd never been a fan of fate or what it meant. Clarke believed that people made their own fates, took paths that could never be retraced, and forged their own destiny. But here, in Azgeda, it was the opposite; everyone, even Roan, believed that they were destined for a fate that the Gods had chosen.

"Then I will allow their wisdom to guide my path," Clarke replied, making Rajnon grin.

"Come," Rajnon said, waving his hand dismissively, offering Clarke a cup of ale. "I wanted to introduce our future queen to my darling sister and look what happens! Tonight, is not a night for the Gods or fate – it is for our Queen."

"Give me your hand," Ghida said, stretching out her long fingers toward Clarke. "I will see what path the Gods have placed you on."

Clarke didn't hesitate, stretching out her hand for the Shaman. The dark-haired woman took Clarke's wrist, flipping her hand over to reveal her palm. Ghida studied it curiously, stepping toward her to better contemplate the lines on her hand. After a moment Gisla smiled, nodding in approval.

"The Gods have given you a difficult but noble destiny," the girl announced, making the people around her whisper and nod in approval. "They have blessed you in more ways than one. I foresee that a choice will be placed before you and your answer will determine the fate of a generation."

Ghida then traced a circle over Clarke's palm, bowing her head slightly before tracing a circle on her own forehead. The rest of the group hummed in curiosity, talking amongst themselves quietly and curiously before Ghida turned back to her brother, letting go of Clarke's wrist slowly.

"Clarke has agreed to examine my wife's pregnancy," Rajnon told his sister, taking a drink of his ale. Clarke mirrored him, the warm ale slithering down her throat thickly. "I would also have you there as well, sister."

"You're an Arkadian doctor, correct?" Ghida asked, Clarke trying to keep up with their conversation.

"I am," she replied, her accent slipping slightly. Ghida must have noticed the difficultly Clarke was having because the woman smiled, moving between the warriors about them to stand next to her.

"I speak English," she announced, smiling down at Clarke. Her accent was the same as Rajnon's, a little thick but comprehensive. "Would it be easier to speak this way?"

"I have been learning Azgedaslang since I got here," Clarke replied, her voice quiet as the men around her began talking amongst themselves. They all seemed merry, chatting and drinking with one another. Clarke could pick up bits of their conversation about hunting and ceremonies, but she was most curious about Ghida, the shaman priestess.

"You are doing quite well," Ghida replied, sticking with English. "I believe you are the first Arkadian to even attempt to learn our language."

"I will be Azgedakru soon," Clarke nodded, making the girl smile. "I do not want to dishonor my husband with ignorance."

"What has he told you about us?" Ghida questioned, a smirk forming on her face. She laced her arm through Clarke's now, moving to turn her around so they could walk through the hall together. "I'm sure he's probably frightened you with our ways and customs."

"Roan?" Clarke asked, strolling down the aisle between the fire and table, turning with Ghida as she lead her toward the outside edge of the hall. "He's told me a lot but nothing frightening."

"He should be more cautious about what he tells you," Ghida affirmed, nodding at a few people who had raised glasses to her as they passed. "Has he told you about the prophecy?"

"Prophecy?" Clarke questioned, her curiosity fully peaked.

"Oh yes," she nodded, squeezing Clarke's arm tighter against her as they walked. Both women were gaining a lot of attention in the hall, walking and talking together as if they were old friends. Their heads were bowed together, and their smiles had many around the room questioning what they were saying. "You see, there is a prophecy from a long time ago, when Azgeda was founded, about a golden prince."

"Golden prince?"

"Yes, a golden prince that will lead Azgeda to peace and prosperity," Ghida confirmed, taking a cup from one of the tables they passed. She tilted it toward Clarke, both girls taking a drink of their cups at the same time. "I thought it was nonsense when I first heard it too," Ghida chuckled, making Clarke blush slightly. "But the omens are unmistakable."

"Tell me," Clarke said, curiosity fully taking over.

"The coming of the golden prince is prophesized by three omens," Ghida explained, smiling at a few women that were obviously whispering about the pair. "First, a great star will fall from the sky which will bring about a new era. Secondly, an old pine will cry tears of blood, signaling the rebirth of Azgeda. And finally…" Ghida paused at this, bowing slightly to Roya as the two passed her. She was still speaking to Niara, Adrax, and Yaega, barely noticing the pair as they passed.

"What is the final omen?" Clarke asked once they were out of earshot, the music drifting about the room languidly. Clarke realized that she'd enjoyed the sound, the beating of drums and hum of horns rising and falling with the voices of the minstrels above.

"The final omen is somewhat confusing," Ghida admitted, a sheepish grin on her face. "It is said that golden tendrils will fall at the king's feet, symbolizing the birth of his son, and the Golden Prince of prophecy."

"Golden tendrils?" Clarke questioned, unsure what that could mean. "Like, starlight?"

"We are unsure," Ghida nodded, taking another drink of her ale as they rounded the corner of the room, coming back toward the table where Roan sat speaking with a few men Clarke didn't recognize. "But some, including myself, believe the final omen is upon us."

"The others have already occurred?" Clarke questioned, raising an eyebrow at the grinning girl.

"The star that fell from heaven, which brought about a new era, was your own people, Skaikru," Ghida explained, squeezing Clarke's arm. "And years ago, when prince Roan was born, the sacred pine in the north gushed sap of the most brilliant scarlet red. The shamans from all four provinces were summoned and my predecessor announced that the second omen had come to pass."

"Sacred pine?" Clarke asked, glimpsing at Roan as they stopped short of the table. "I had no idea there was such a thing."

"Yes, far to the north," Ghida pointed, noticing the way Roan had been watching them. "It is a sacred place amongst ruins of the ancient times, where a large pine towers to the sky. It is where our nation first began all those years ago."

"I would love to see it," Clarke replied, curious to learn more about Azgeda and its history. "I've never left the city."

"All Azgeda monarchs have journeyed there, since the beginning of our monarchy, to be crowned," Ghida affirmed, squeezing Clarke's arm. "And we all look forward to the day that Roan is crowned underneath those sacred branches."

"And the third omen?" Clarke asked, remembering what Ghida had said about it being upon them.

"Ah, yes…" she smirked, glancing over Clarke's shoulder. "I am not sure if it is fate that we met tonight but if our prince has yet to tell you of the prophecy, I think it only fair that you hear it from one with much better understanding of the Gods than he."

"Perhaps the tendrils are more falling stars," Clarke questioned, feeling a bit nervous. "Or perhaps some sort of golden tribute?"

"Many believe that the golden tendrils are just that," Ghida smirked, unlacing her arm from Clarke's. She reached her hand up, gently touching the golden tresses of Clarke's hair. "Golden tendrils."

Clarke swallowed hard now, realizing what Ghida was saying. Clarke had never been religious, or superstitious, but the way the shaman's warm brown eyes met hers sent a shock through Clarke's body. The way the girl gently fingered her long golden curls made goosepimples form on Clarke's arms.

"I'm not that important," Clarke insisted, feeling the blush on her face.

"I don't believe so," Ghida assured, nodding at Roan who had stood up from his seat at the table and was approaching them. "Clarke is very important, isn't she my prince?"

"What are you telling her, Ghida?" Roan asked, his voice a mix between a warning and weariness.

"The God's truth," she replied, bowing to him. "I believe Clarke should be aware of the destiny that the God's have in store for her."

"Whether it is her fate or not," Roan warned, making Ghida smirk. "Only the Gods know."

"I will read your runes and stars," Ghida affirmed, looking back at Clarke. "And when we meet again, I will tell you what I have seen."

Ghida then bowed again to both Clarke and Roan, turning gracefully and walking back toward the center of the room where Rajnon's pregnant wife sat. Clarke watched the curious girl for a moment before turning back to Roan, a slight hardness in his eyes catching Clarke off guard.

"I'm sorry if I pried," Clarke told him, making his eyes snap back to her face. "I had no idea that your people had such faith in destiny."

"Ghida is devout to our ancestors and their ways," Roan commented, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "She believes she knows the will of the Gods, but I believe she knows no more than anyone else."

"A prophecy?" Clarke questioned, making a bashful smile appear on Roan's face. "Falling stars, bleeding trees, and golden tendrils as omens are hard to ignore. Do you believe it?"

"In a way," Roan affirmed, offering Clarke his arm. "But I believe that we can make our own destiny."

Clarke felt relieved at that, smiling up at him kindly. She took his arm now as he led her back up to their seats at the table, taking the goblet from her hand and placing it on the edge of the table. Clarke hadn't drunk more than a cup of alcohol, but the potency of the drink had warmed her to the core. She felt quite content to sit next to Roan, at the table, as groups of warriors, councilors, and priests came forward to introduce themselves.

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 **So, what did you think? I tried to draw a stark contrast between Azgeda culture and Arkadian in this chapter. I have been building at that for a while now but I wanted to highlight the many differences in every aspect of their society. I do hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much to all my readers. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Endings

**Greetings again readers. I do hope you are enjoying the story. I appreciate the favorites and follows! Thanks so much for the support. Here is chapter 6 for your viewing pleasure. Please read and review!**

 **A/N: Please note, if you haven't noticed already, the characters are slowly maturing emotionally. I wanted to show the process of growing up, of understanding yourself better as you get older with these books and I think you will be satisfied with the end-result. I do enjoy delving into character motivations as well as scene settings so I do hope you you've also enjoyed that. Thanks again!**

* * *

Bellamy sat huddled against the low stone wall surrounding the garden to the north of the small farmhouse, watching closely as a girl drew water from their well. The rain had started to fall again, making a gray mist rise from the fields to roll across the landscape like a thin blanket. The trio had tied their horses up in a clearing off the road, making sure they were not visible from the road before they took off on foot toward the small farmstead. The squat stone and wood house sat in a shallow valley between corn fields, the last of their crop still swaying in the wind and rain as Bellamy looked onto the scene.

They'd been there, crouching, and watching since before the rain began to fall, staying low so as not to draw attention. They also noted that the father had only come out of the house once to feed the pigs that had been grunting and squealing ever since the rain started. It was starting to get dark and the overcast skies made it feel even later than it was, the cold winds of the north stinging their faces beneath their hoods.

"We should just approach on horses," Jon whispered, watching the girl carrying the buckets into the small home. "It'd look less suspicious."

"I agree," Landell said, motioning at the house. "We've been here almost an hour watching. If the son hasn't shown up already, he won't be here tonight; not in this rain."

"Let's go get the horses," Jon nodded, backing up from the stone wall slowly as a light came on in one of the small opaque windows.

Bellamy followed them, crouching uphill back toward the forest slowly. This rain would make it difficult to see them and Bellamy had waited long enough. Once they reached the tree line, the trio started jogging through the trees towards their horses. It wasn't far from the farm, but they needed to be sure that they wouldn't be spotted from the road. Once they'd reached the clearing, the horses huddled under the trees out of the rain as they grazed, they mounted up, heading for the road.

"We have to try and be diplomatic," Jon warned, glancing over at Bellamy as the horses navigated around tree trunks and roots. "No threats until it is absolutely necessary."

"I can't promise anything," Bellamy spat, his voice almost a growl.

"Quit being stupid," Jon replied, shaking his head as they approached the ditch just off the road. "Let us handle this. We have to try and convince him to tell us what he knows, and it can go wrong in so many ways."

The three of them pulled up on their reins, the horses slowly clopping down the steep hill, the riders emerging from the trees and up onto the dirt road. They spurred on the horses now, galloping toward the path that lead to the farmer's home. Once they pulled up, slowing to a trot as they entered the yard, they saw the door open, the older man standing on the threshold stiffly. Bellamy pulled up to a stop now, nodding down at the man politely.

"Evening friend," Jon said, motioning to Landell. "I presume you know who he is?"

"Mister Pike," the older man nodded, bowing his head slightly. "What brings you out this far so late?"

"I would be happy to divulge all details, and share a cup of ale with you, if you'd allow us to stable our horses here for a while," Landell replied, swinging his leg off the horse, Jon doing the same. "I'd be happy to pay for the privilege."

"No need," the man nodded, turning sideways and motioning into the home. A young man, dressed in his military flak and pants came to the door, bowing slightly. "Take their horses to the barn, feed n' water 'em."

"Many thanks," Jon said with a smile, Bellamy swinging off the horse and handing the reins to the waiting captain. He was older than Bellamy, but he didn't look it; his features were still smooth and his darting eyes pondered Bellamy's face. After he had walked away with their horses in tow, Koa offered them to come into his home. Landell went first, Jon and Bellamy following up behind him as the warmth of the small fireplace embraced them. The main room of the home was comfortable, a table with a bench and a comfortable rocking chair sat in front of the hearth. There was a woven rug on the floor, the shelves along the far wall holding all their cookery and supplies. It was dimly lit with only the blazing fire and a couple of small candles on the far wall casting shadows across the floor.

"Warm yourselves by the fire," Koa offered, motioning for his daughter, who Bellamy estimated was no older than fifteen, to take their cloaks. After their cloaks were put up, and the girl had put on a kettle, they all became comfortable. Bellamy stood in the corner near the fire, Jon and Landell taking a seat on the bench near the table as Koa sat in his rocking chair. The young girl watched them wall wearily, standing behind her father's chair stiffly.

"So," the older man began, sitting back in his chair. "What brings you out durin' this rain, Mister Pike?"

"My companions and I have come to proposition you," Landell motioned, looking over at Jon and then Bellamy. "But I don't think you've met them yet."

"Jon Murphy," Jon said, standing and extending his arm in greeting. The older man took his forearm, shaking it briefly before turning to Bellamy, who had offered his own arm.

"Bellamy Blake," he said, watching the older man's reaction closely. He took Bellamy's arm, shook it, and then turned back to Landell knowingly.

"I see," he nodded, glancing between them. "Then we best wait for my son to come back in."

"May we speak freely?" Landell asked, glancing at the girl standing behind her father.

"She knows," Koa said, the girl placing a hand on his shoulder. "So does my son."

"Then you know why we've come?" Jon asked, looking between the man and his daughter. "We're not here to cause trouble or harm you in any way. I'm sure you know how desperate the situation is."

At that moment the door swung open and the young captain came inside, shutting out the wind and the sound of falling rain. He was dripping wet, pulling off his flak jacket and hanging it on a notch near the door. He looked about the room slowly, the silence out of place as the group sat there in front of the fire.

"I knew someone would be approachin' me ever since we got news of the Griffin girls abduction," Koa explained, his son coming to stand next to him. The girl moved to the fire now where the kettle had started to hiss. She took it off carefully, taking it to the table to pour them all something warm to drink. "I just wasn't expectin' you." He looked up at Bellamy, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Dad," the son said, a mix of shock and reproach on his face. "Don't speak to them like that…"

"Your name, soldier?" Landell asked, looking up at young man.

"Kaeman," he replied, standing up straighter now, addressing his superior officer. "And I apologize for my father's crude words."

"No apology is needed," Landell assured, looking back at the older man. "We need your help, sir."

"So, I guess all we must settle on is a price," Jon suggested, looking between them.

"And if what if I'm not sellin'?" Koa questioned, making his son glance down at him.

"I would urge you to reconsider," Landell insisted, glancing at Bellamy. "We could offer you a manor house, land, and if you're interested, I can nominate you for a Guild Councilman position."

"You'd be willin' to give me, an obscure family famer, a position like that?" Koa asked, looking between the three of them. "That's only goin' to draw attention to who I really am."

"We could offer a promotion for your son," Jon pointed, looking over at the girl making tea. "And we can give you a larger farm, so your daughter and son will have some sort of security for when they have their own families."

"What kind of information ya' need?" he asked, looking back at the fire.

"We need to know everything that you remember about the fortress and the city," Jon replied, taking the ceramic cup that the girl offered him. After she'd handed out the cups, she stood by the fire, watching the three strangers wearily.

"It's been over twenty years since I've been there," Koa admitted, taking a sip of tea. "But you obviously don't understand Azgeda or its people. If ya' think ya' can get close to the capital, yer' crazy."

"Father," Kaeman warned again, stopping as Bellamy stepped forward.

"We have a plan," Bellamy replied, finally speaking. "We just need a basic layout of the fortress, numbers of guards, entrances and exits, and the layout of the city."

"Only," Koa laughed, cradling the drink in his lap. "Even if you have a plan, I doubt things are the same as they used ta' be. I was a guard durin' the reign of the former king so I doubt anything is the same."

"Any information you can remember would be helpful," Landell assured, grabbing his handheld. "Could you draw a map?"

"Aye," he nodded, looking up at his son. "Go, grab some parchment and charcoal pens."

"Thank you," Jon said, taking a drink of his tea as Koa's son went to the shelf to grab the supplies for his father. "It's been a long ride out here Mr. Natal. I was hoping we wouldn't leave empty-handed."

"My information will cost ya'," Koa assured, taking the parchment and pens. "I don't want a title or a manor home. I want more land, some gold, and I want you to help me smuggle my sister and her family into Arkadian territory."

"That's a tall order," Jon replied before Bellamy could become impatient. "You realize that's going to take a lot of planning. Are you in contact with your sister?"

"She lives in the capital," Koa replied, starting to roughly sketch an outline of a river. "Her husband passed almost ten years ago and her only will be turnin' twelve this year. She can shelter you in Azgeda."

"Do you have ways to contact her?" Landell asked skeptically, addressing the issue that all three of them were concerned with.

"I do," he affirmed, looking between them. "I've kept contact over the past ten years by sendin' letters. It's common in Azgeda for birds to act as messengers."

"How do you know your letters haven't been intercepted?" Jon asked, setting his cup back down.

"Our language is hard to master," Koa assured, looking over at his son. "And my sister n' I have used coded messages since we were children."

"We'll accept your offer," Bellamy spoke up, making Landell and Jon look over at him. "But understand, absolute secrecy isn't negotiable."

"Then we have a deal," Koa assured, looking down at the parchment in his lap. He continued sketching, the rest of the group remaining silent, the patter of rain on the thatch and wood roof the only sound other than the occasional pop of the fire in the hearth. Bellamy could feel the impatience building, the plan starting to form in his mind as he considered how to accommodate Koa's demands. There was a lot to be done, including rallying supporters for their petition. Bellamy didn't have a lot of time to cobble together this plan and with Lexa coming to Arkadia in a couple days, time was short.

Bellamy had to make sure that he had a solid plan, one she could agree to and assist in without endangering herself for the delegation. He also needed to make sure that the plan could be initiated without incident. Though they had a way to lay low in Azgeda now, the dangers were still overwhelming. Bellamy also had to consider how to convince Clarke to go along with the plan. He had considered not telling her about it at all. He could avoid seeing her, speaking to her, and it would be less likely that she'd resist. It could also swing the other way, making her difficult to persuade. Bellamy had to be careful and as he mulled over the options, the immense to-do list rattling around in his head, he noticed that steadily, Koa had been sketching an artfully detailed map.

Bellamy watched him now, the outline of a city wall forming as the charcoal markings became clearer. It looked as if the city was compact, smaller than Arkadia, with few large buildings. In fact, the largest building he could make out from where he was standing was the fortress that, if he was interpreting correctly, sat atop a cliff. That seemed to be even more difficult, sending his mind into a frenzy of options. He'd have to go over this map, in detail, and hope that not much had changed in the past 20 years.

"How many entrances to the city?" Bellamy finally asked, moving closer to look down at the map.

"Three," Koa assured, pointing at them in sequence. "To the north, south, and west. This is goin' to be the first challenge."

"How many guards at the gates? Which gate would a delegation use?" Bellamy asked, looking at the carefully planned streets that Koa had outlined.

"Most likely the southern gate," Koa nodded, motioning for Bellamy to take a closer look. "The southern gate is guarded by more sentries n' the road leads straight to the fortress. I'd say there are at least six guards at each entrance and an additional thirty patrolling the city daily."

"The fortress is atop a cliff?" Bellamy asked, looking at the rough shaded and etched details.

"A waterfall," Koa corrected pointing at a few poorly drawn lines. "There is a stairway and a bridge that leads you up the cliff n' over the river."

"And the fortress?" Bellamy asked as Koa handed him the map of the town.

The older man began sketching on a new sheet of parchment, Jon offering to pour Landell and the rest of them a drink from his flask. After passing out the new drinks, the teenage girl refusing the drink politely, Jon and Landell came to look over Bellamy's shoulder at the map he held.

"The fortress is three floors," he pointed, drawing four separate rectangles on the paper. "The lowest connects to the courtyard n' river. It's where the barracks n' dungeons are."

"Is the river crossable?" Jon asked, looking at the map. "Would it be possible to cross without being noticed?"

"Not from there," Koa replied, shaking his head as he kept sketching. "There r' four entrances to the fortress. Through the guard-house barracks n' dungeons, the kitchens, the main courtyard, n' the north passage."

"Which entrance would be easiest to get to without being spotted?" Bellamy asked, looking down at the map Koa was working on.

"The kitchens if ya' go at night," he replied, pointing at the kitchens that were in the lowest part of the fortress. "They lead between all the top floors but the one that is least patrolled is the north passage. That leads from the upper floors down to a set of passages set behind the kitchen. This is meant to be an evacuation tunnel…"

"Mark the passages on the map," Bellamy instructed, looking back at the first map. "It seems the city is small, so it will be hard to deviate from the plan."

"Security and patrols are probably tight," Landell offered, looking down at the map. "We'll need to do this all at once and be ready to flee through the south gate, or maybe west on the river until we can head out on foot."

"The royal family's chambers," Bellamy questioned, handing Jon the finished city map. "Where are those?"

"Top floor," Koa affirmed, taking a drink of the ale Jon had poured him earlier. "The top floor is for ambassadors, important guests, n' the royal family. There are almost a dozen rooms on the top floor including suites."

Bellamy only nodded, watching the older man as he sketched some more, putting in little details like hallways and stairs. Bellamy could see the fortress taking shape, the simple design focused around a large dining hall on the first floor. He had wondered if Clarke would be housed in the dungeons or on the top floor with the Azgeda royal family. He honestly wasn't sure what to expect, wondering if she wasn't freezing in a cell right now. The impatience that rose in his stomach turned uncomfortably as he pondered the different approaches they could take when they go there.

When Koa finally handed him the rough map of the fortress, Bellamy studied it closely, understanding the basic layout and functionality of the palatial floorplan. He contemplated it before handing it over to Jon and Landell, who had been looking it over next to him. Bellamy then turned on the older man, pulling a satchel from his cloak's inner pocket.

"This is for your silence," Bellamy said, handing the man the bag of coins. "You'll get the rest when Clarke is returned."

"And if you fail?" Koa asked, looking between the trio.

"I'll honor the terms," Landell assured, looking over at Koa with a nod. "We'll be bringing your sister and her child directly to you so be ready. We may have to hide them until we can get her the proper documentation."

"Where would they keep an important prisoner in the fortress?" Bellamy asked, glancing at the map.

"Depends on the prisoner," Koa replied, downing the rest of the ale and handing the cup back to his son. "But my guess is that they're holdin' her in one of the suites."

"Any traps we should be weary of?" Jon asked, rolling the first map up in his cloak.

"None that I'm aware of but there are usually several guards on duty throughout the day," he nodded, leaning back in the rocking chair. "Four patrollin' the perimeter of the grounds, two in the guard house, and at least three guards on each floor of the fortress."

"Tell your sister to meet us at the north passage, just outside the fortress walls, after sundown," Bellamy instructed, turning to Jon. "It'll be your job to get Clarke, and the others back to Arkadia."

"On what day?" Koa asked, looking between Bellamy and Jon.

"We don't' know how long it takes to get to Azgeda," Jon admitted, looking over at Landell cautiously.

"It'll take you five days, on foot, from the southern border," Koa informed them, motioning for his daughter to clean up the cups and kettle. "It would take you two days if ya' pushed the horses…"

"Tell her to watch out for us in seven days," Bellamy replied, looking back at Koa. "We may be longer than that so tell her to use a coded phrase when approaching people."

"She doesn't speak much English," Koa admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. "When ya' meet up with her, you need to let her know she can trust ya'."

"What English words does she know?" Landell asked, handing Jon the second map for storage.

"Basics, but that was years ago," Koa admitted. "We used to use a phrase as kids, when we were jokin' around."

"What was it?" Jon asked, rolling up the last map like the other, shoving it in his cloak.

"Over, under, out," Koa admitted, a slight smile hinted in his eyes. "It was a silly joke between us, but she will know it is you."

"Joke?" Jon asked, watching the man closely.

"We'd pretend we had radios, like you Arkadians have," Koa nodded. "We'd pretend to call one another over them n' that was the phrase we'd use."

"Tell her to keep an eye out for us," Bellamy assured, reaching out his arm to say farewell. "We've taken up too much of your time as it is."

"It's still pouring out," Koa offered, standing up from the chair to take Bellamy's arm. 'You could stay until it lets up."

"We have to get back," Bellamy urged, glancing out the small window at the storm. "We've got a lot of planning to do."

"Ya' took a risk comin' here for my help," Koa admitted, looking between the three of them. "I never thought I'd see the day that a Blake would go outta his way for a Griffin."

"Father,' his son warned, glancing at the trio of strangers.

"What have you heard?" Jon asked, looking between the son and father quizzically.

"Rumors," Kaeman replied, looking at Landell. "We've heard a lot of murmurs about what happened in the capital."

"What kind of rumors?" Landell questioned, the young captain standing a little straighter.

"The most popular is that Clarke Griffin had married Roan of Azgeda in secret and fled to the capital," Kaeman admitted, looking a bit apprehensive. "But no one can believe it."

"Why?" Bellamy asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because, we also heard rumors that she was abducted," the captain hesitated, still standing at attention. "And we'd believe that above the rumor that she betrayed Arkadia."

"We?" Jon questioned, looking over at the girl sitting near the fire, her eyes darting between her brother and father.

"The soldiers," Kaeman corrected, placing a hand on the back of this father's chair. "We've heard rumors of the Griffin heiress before and most of the soldiers, and ranking officers, believe she would never betray Arkadia. It's…" he trailed off, a confused look coming over his face.

"Go on," Landell prompted, noticing Bellamy's confused expression.

"To be honest sir, it's not how we see her," he tried to explain, looking down at his sister.

"What he means to say," she piped up, making all eyes fall on her. "Is that Clarke Griffin has a reputation for being kind, gentle, and loyal. We don't believe she'd betray Arkadia and we don't believe she'd betray you, Bellamy Blake."

"I don't understand," Bellamy admitted, feeling completely dumbstruck. "Why wouldn't you believe that?"

"Rumors started spreading in the weeks before she was abducted," Kaeman explained, looking over at his sister with a slight smile. "It's a popular rumor, to be honest. A lot of our youngest recruits can be quite fantastical in their expectations."

"Don't act like you know everything, Kaeman," his sister retorted, looking a little cross. Bellamy couldn't help but be reminded of his own sister, her stubborn attitude a mirror image of the girl in front of him.

"Oh, will ya' two stop givin' 'em the run'round," Koa groaned, sitting back in the chair.

"You have to understand," Kaeman explained, shooting his sister a warning look. "The commoners out here on the farms don't have much to talk about so they can be a little fanatical, and fantastical, about news from the capital."

"Spit it out," Koa urged, a smirk forming on his face as Bellamy stared between them curiously.

"Is it true that you fell in love with one another?" the daughter finally asked, approaching Bellamy slowly. "We heard you'd been together, that you'd fallen for one another, and were going to get married. We were told she was expecting a baby and that you were already married."

The girl's words started running together, the excitement in her voice throwing all three of them off. It was only when she noticed that she was talking too quickly that she paused, a blush coming over her face.

"I'm sorry about my sister's fantasies," Kaeman sighed, looking at Landell. "Like I said, the kids can be quite creative."

The room was quiet for a moment before Jon started chuckling, clapping Bellamy on the shoulder with a wide grin. "Now that is something," he commented, looking over at the girl. "You and Clarke have become Arkadia's most popular story."

"I hope you aren't offended," the girl said meekly, looking at the floor. "It's just that- "

"Enough, Mia," Kaeman warned, shaking his head.

"No," Bellamy finally spoke, looking down at the girl. "What is it? Tell me."

"It's a miracle," Mia confirmed, squaring her shoulders. "It's a wonderful story and almost everyone talks about it. I don't know what is more exciting; the love or heroism."

"Heroism?" Jon chuckled, looking at Bellamy's bewildered face. "Look at that. I bet you didn't know so many people approved."

Bellamy heard Landell chuckle and noticed Koa grinning as well. He wasn't sure what to make of this, but the girl had stunned him into silence. Before he could register what he was doing, before he could honestly organize his thoughts, he stepped toward her and wrapped the girl in a hug, a grin forming on his face.

"Thanks," he said, pulling away from the blushing girl. He looked down at her with a genuine smile which made her blush even brighter. "I do love her."

"I k-knew it," the girl stammered, looking at the floor. "You have to save her…that's…"

"That's what?" Bellamy asked, stepping away from the stuttering teenager.

"That's how the story ends," Mia smiled, looking up at him defiantly.

* * *

Clarke sat at the table with Roan, the hour late as they looked over the party. They'd all eaten hours before and were, much to Clarke's enjoyment, watching a couple of Azgeda warriors fighting it out. They were mostly drunk, given blunted weapons to dual with as the hall became rowdy. Over the course of the banquet, speeches were given, gifts presented, and the drinks flowed until well after midnight. Clarke noticed that the servants had not only refilled the hearths twice but also had to roll in another barrel of ale as the feast drug on. Even the musicians had taken a break after they ate, the hall's rumbling conversations echoing about them.

It was late now, Nia excusing herself a short while after the final speeches with the old shaman, Zenvegen. Most people remained in the hall, drinking, talking, and gambling well after the feast. But now it was starting to die down, guests slowly disappearing to their rooms upstairs. When one of the dueling men had finally been defeated, the hall erupted with applause and shouts, making Clarke laugh heartily at the spectacle. She raised a glass to the victor and then to Roan, finishing her cup. That had to of been her fourth cup of the night and she felt the effects building. It was a lightweight feeling, her head swimming as she looked back over at Roan.

"It's getting late," he commented, looking up at Adrax, who was approaching with a drink in one hand and a chicken leg in the other. Roan nodded at him and the older man bowed back, turning to Clarke and smiling drunkenly.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head. "Might I have a quick word before the night ends?"

"Come," she said in broken Azgedaslang, making the older man grin. He nodded, coming to sit next to her in the empty chair that Rajnon had been in earlier.

"I wanted to speak to you both," he affirmed, turning to look at the couple in his chair as he motioned for his cup to be refilled. "Tell me, what are the prospects of an expedient marriage?"

"I don't think that's possible," Roan interjected before Clarke could respond, turning her head to him curiously. "The Queen Reagent has yet to set a date."

"The faster the better," he assured, smiling over at Clarke now. "I was here for 'is parent's weddin' feast, you know?"

"You were?" Clarke asked, curious to learn more.

"And I was just a child when 'is grandfather was crowned," Adrax nodded, throwing the chicken leg aside for the dogs that were prowling the hall looking for scraps. "And I'll be fortunate enough ta'witness your coronation before death takes me."

"So, you've been to the bleeding tree?" Clarke asked, hearing Roan go silent beside her. Adrax considered her a moment, his eyes hazy and distant before he laughed, slapping his hand on the table. Roan started laughing as well, making Clarke look between them curiously. "What?" she asked, feeling a little embarrassed in her drunken haze.

"Have some water," Roan offered, grabbing the pitcher from a passing servant and filling a fresh glass for her. Clarke took it slowly from him, eyeing both men curiously before taking a big drink.

"It's called Faedtri, princess," Adrax smiled, taking a drink of his freshly poured ale. "An' it's the place where all our monarchs are crowned." His words were slurring slightly and his Azgaedaslang accent had made Clarke pause, unsure of her drunken perception. She had to mull over what he said for a moment before responding, taking another quick drink of water.

"Do you believe in the prophecy?" Clarke asked, speaking slower.

"I do," Adrax responded, grinning at Roan. "But only the Gods know our fate."

"Perhaps we should speak sometime," Roan suggested, steering the conversation now. "I'd like to speak to you about a few things before you leave the capital."

"I'll be here a few more days," Adrax nodded, setting his cup now. He then smirked, glancing over at Roan through his bushy red eyebrows. "We should talk 'bout a few things before I return to Wisteria."

"I believe we should," Roan agreed, setting his own cup down. "But for now, I think it is best to get the princess to bed. It's been a long night."

"It has," Clarke smiled, turning to Adrax again. "I do hope I get the chance to speak to you again before you leave."

"You should come with Prince Roan," Adrax nodded, moving to stand. "I think that would be best."

"I'll come find you," Roan assured, nodding at Adrax as he bowed. Clarke looked between them quickly before nodding her head, watching as the older man sauntered off with his cup.

"Talk about what?" Clarke asked, looking up at Roan curiously.

"Come, let's go back to my rooms," he said, standing up next to her. He offered his arm and she took it, not realizing that she'd need the balance. She knew she had drank more than she intended but she didn't think she'd gotten drunk. However, as she stood up she had to grip onto Roan's arm, steadying herself gracefully.

"I drank too much," Clarke said to him, smiling at the banqueters who sat closest to their table, the duo passing by with a nod. "I may need some more water and something to eat."

"When we get to our rooms," Roan nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist, his other arm coming around to hold her forearm.

"I normally never get this drunk," Clarke said, blushing slightly. As they left the hall she could hear cheers, whispers, and whistles calling after them, her blush intensified at the suggestion.

"Let's just get you upstairs," he said softly, holding her up. When they approached the set of stairs leading up to the next floor, Clarke groaned, not realizing how daunting the climb would be in this state. Before she could even step onto the first stair, Roan had scooped her up in his arms, carrying her effortlessly up the flight. Once on the second floor he set her down, smirking at the fact that she was blushing and wobbling on the spot. "Here," he offered, wrapping his arm around her again, lifting her up so that he was supporting most of her body weight.

They'd made it up to his suite a few minutes later, Clarke relieved to see the fire burning in the hearth and the small table littered with pastries and fruits. She stepped away from him now, sitting unceremoniously on the couch as she popped a pastry into her mouth. She ate a few of them before pouring herself a large glass of water, drinking it quickly. She then blushed when she noticed Roan watching her, shaking her head with a grin.

"Sorry," she said through a mouthful of pastry.

"It's okay," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Did you enjoy yourself at least?"

"I did," she admitted, taking another drink from her water. "It was fun, a lot like our family gatherings back home. What was that game? The dice one?"

"We call it parzehn," Roan reminded her, noting the grin on her face. "It's such a simple game. You just need three six-sided dice."

"We should play sometime," Clarke nodded, eating another pastry.

"I was hoping you'd have fun," he smiled, pulling off the tunic and leather he'd been wearing, grabbing a simple linen tunic to put on instead. He then grabbed his loose velvet slacks, opening his solarium door. He had emerged only a few moments later, his boots and leather breeches replaced and a relieved look on his face.

Clarke offered him a pastry across the room and he chuckled, motioning for her to toss it toward his open mouth. She laughed, tossing one and missing as it went over his head. It hit the door behind him and fell to the floor, Roan bending over to chuck it back, laughing as it bounced off her shoulder.

"No fair," Clarke laughed, grabbing a fresh pastry and throwing it at his open mouth. This time he moved, catching it and chewing it victoriously.

"Good shot," Roan admitted, plopping down on the couch next to her.

She chuckled, leaning back with her cup of water, sipping it slowly as she pulled her legs up under her. They both sat there quietly now, the silence relaxing after the night of music and the humming of continuous conversation. Clarke felt completely relaxed, happy that she had Roan there with her. She didn't know how she would have gotten through that night without him.

She wasn't used to being presented with gifts, or meeting such important people, and she was keenly aware that she had been watched the whole time. She had felt Roan's hand on her arm many times that night, steadying her when she wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't thank him enough for walking her through the night and the more she thought about it, the more exciting the night had seemed to be. She was entertained by games of cards, dice, and drinking but she also enjoyed seeing Azgeda combat techniques up close. Clarke sighed happily now, making Roan look at her curiously. She only grinned back at him, drinking the rest of her water before setting the cup down on the table.

"I should thank you for tonight," Clarke nodded, leaning back against the couch again. "I was really nervous at first."

"I know," he replied, smiling down at her. "But you did great."

"You think?" she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I 'm just glad you were there. I felt so out of place at first…"

"I would be surprised if you didn't," he confessed, glancing sideways at her. "But it is getting late. Did you still want to practice tomorrow?"

"Oh," Clarke breathed, tilting her head to look up at him. "I forgot."

"We don't' have to…"

"No," Clarke said, shaking her head. "No, I want to learn."

"Then you should get to bed," he chuckled, his warm breath rustling her hair. "Come on, to bed."

Clarke chuckled when he stood up, pulling her with him. She allowed him to help her to his room, not feeling as light-headed as she had a while ago. She felt tired though, her eyes feeling heavy like her limbs. He motioned for her to sit down, moving to the small fireplace to load some logs onto the hot coals. He then turned back toward the door, grabbing a shirt from the bureau for her. It was one of his tunics, a bit large for Clarke but she assumed that was the intent. He handed it to her, pulling her flats off as he knelt, making sure to set them to the side carefully.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, nodding at her as he stood. "If you need anything wake me or pull the rope in the lift. Someone will answer…"

Clarke nodded sheepishly, pulling the tunic to her face and smelling it. It smelled like him, the musk of a campfire and the faint scent of pine and sage lingering about her. She smiled at this, making him eye her curiously before shaking his head with a grin.

"Good night Clarke," he mused, turning from her now. Before he could step away though her hand flew out to his wrist, stopping him from moving. She saw him turn toward her but everything else was a quick, but gentle, blur. She pulled him back toward her, his eyes full of curiosity as she reached out her other hand to place it against his cheek. She saw the circuits firing behind his eyes as she leaned in now, placing a tender kiss on his lips before pulling away, her eyes never leaving his.

"Good night, Roan," she whispered, her lips brushing his slightly before pulling away completely.

He nodded now, his bewilderment fading as he placed a hand on her cheek before turning around and leaving the room. Clarke watched him leave, her fingertips coming up to graze her lips as she sat there swimming in her thoughts. She didn't know why she did it, but the sensation was undeniable. She'd enjoyed it entirely too much, thinking of the banquet and how much fun she had next to Roan all night. There was something different, Clarke realizing that the mead had undoubtedly contributed to the decision to kiss him. However, she believed it was more than that and at first it frightened her but now, as she lay in bed with his tunic clutched to her chest, she realized it was trust. She trusted him entirely, realizing that for the first time that she appreciated and wanted his company.

Her head swam a little as she hastily unfastened the dress from her neck, pulling his tunic over her chilled skin. She then slid into the bed, wrapping herself in the furs and covers tightly. It was still cold, the fire burning low in the hearth of the chamber, making her shiver slightly. She was thankful Roan had loaded a few more logs on it, seeing the smoke rising as they caught fire. Clarke lay there a few more moments, contemplating Roan as she did so. It wasn't the best time to consider her thoughts, but she also knew that her feelings were quite raw when she drank. They came to the surface so freely when she was intoxicated, and she wondered if they would remain when she woke the next morning.

Clarke didn't know what to do; she felt so conflicted that it made her physically ill. She laid there under the furs in Roan's room, inhaling his distinctive scent, the mix of pine and smoke no longer unfamiliar. She had to approach this logically and consider what would be best for her, her family, friends, and the people of Arkadia. She knew Roan was right about his mother and sister. She knew that they would bring the entire coalition into a war of attrition to expand Azgeda's influence. They were willing to risk thousands of their own citizens and thousands of other innocent lives just to achieve it. Clarke couldn't fathom why, and it irritated her; how could a woman so strong be so short-sighted?

And what was it all for? Was that much bloodshed worth it? Clarke pondered Nia's reasoning, trying her best to wrap her head around such a wasteful plan. Nia was obviously discontent with Azgeda's position in the coalition and the lack of influence they had. She was also obviously offended that Arkadia had been accepted by the commander and his followers. But why would she be so angry? Why would she be so bent on destroying Arkadia and the coalition? Every time Clarke thought she had an answer, a new question seemed to pop up.

Was she that greedy? Did she herself want to be commander? Was she just doing this to gain power? What had happened to her to make her hate so potent? Clarke started becoming frustrated now, completely unhinged by the idea that the reasoning behind Nia's maneuvering was nonexistent. Was she just doing this for fun? To watch the rest of them squirm? There had to be more to it than that, but she couldn't understand. And what about Roya? Was Roan right? Did his sister want the crown? Is that what the two of them were working toward? With Roya on the throne, Azgeda would be drastically different. Clarke knew this but it all just seemed so pointless – all that effort for nothing but death and destruction. Clarke groaned out loud now, rolling over to look up at the ceiling.

Nia is greedy, power-hungry, and ruthless; she doesn't make a move that doesn't benefit Azgeda or herself. She obviously dislikes Roan, not wanting him to take her place on the throne. She's stalled the council and war chiefs more than once, so she must have a plan, but Clarke couldn't fathom what it was. Even if she did want Roya on the throne, passing over Roan was going to be difficult. It was his, by right, and the war chiefs and council would need convinced with more than just threats. She would need the alliance of all the war chiefs to set Roan aside and Clarke just couldn't see that happening. In Azgeda's long history, they'd never had a reigning Queen. Though Nia was technically the queen, and called herself that, she was only a reagent for Roan who should have been handed control years ago.

So, if the endgame was Roya being on the throne, it would only make sense that Nia would have to figure out a way to get rid of Roan. This made Clarke uneasy, grasping the warm furs around her tightly. The only way she could do that, to make sure Roan never ascended, was to kill him. He would rather die than give up his birthright and Clarke knew this. She knew he was just as stubborn as his mother and had a better claim than anyone else. Clarke could understand wanting Roya on the throne; for Nia, that made the most sense. Roya would be just as ruthless as her mother, going to war with the coalition and Arkadia immediately. She'd want the lands that Arkadia claimed from them almost 60 years ago and she would want a commander from Azgeda to head the coalition. She would manipulate the coalition and, if what she feared were true, Roya would completely destroy Arkadia.

Was that all they wanted? Was all this planning, all this bloodshed, just to destroy Arkadia? Clarke couldn't understand that reasoning at all. If anything, Azgeda had maintained their independence and monarchy because of Arkadia. It was the Arkadians who stressed cooperation and mutual respect. It was Arkadia who'd been consistently attacked by Azgeda raiders and forced to act. Why would Nia hate them so much? And why would she be willing to set her own son aside just to destroy a nation that wasn't even half the size of her own? There was something else to it and it frustrated Clarke to no end. She hated not being able to see the whole picture and it made her own decision much more difficult.

The conflict within her was overwhelming. What could she do? How could she honestly try to reason through her emotions when they were all over the place? The truth was difficult to face and the more she mulled over it, the muddier the water became. She had two paths before her and both were dangerous; she could lose her life in either scenario. She could go along with Roan's plans, marry him, help him overthrow his mother, and then take her place as Queen of Azgeda. If somehow that worked out for them, she'd be the most powerful woman in the coalition, even more so than Nia was now. She could protect Arkadia and bring the peace between their two nations that was desperately needed. She could fulfill the prophecy, should she and Roan have a son; this thought sent shivers down her spine, making the sensation under her skin streak wildly. She wanted him, she could feel it now, and it made her want to help him. After all, Azgeda was suffering; the people of this warlike nation had no notion of how farm to feed a population of over thirty thousand. Clarke had also noticed that their most advanced healers were barely qualified to handle serious injuries and the flu.

Clarke could do so much good in Azgeda and Roan himself was willing to protect both Azgeda and Arkadia with her. That was also another problem; Roan wasn't as frightening or unappealing as he had seemed the first time they met. In fact, Clarke had noticed herself slowly growing to care for him. She had felt the guilt welling in her chest every day, learning more and more about who he was and what kind of King he wanted to be. She even admitted that he was an attractive prospect for any girl to consider and she just happened to be lucky enough to catch his eye. He had been straight forward about caring for her which made her respect him even more. He was never one to sugar-coat his words and that was refreshing in this world of deceit and lies.

She also felt so at ease around him, as if she'd known him her whole life and it scared her. She wanted to protect him; she wanted to be a part of his world, something she never would have imagined a few weeks ago. It wasn't because of his physical appearance though. Clarke had to reiterate that over and over to herself which made her question her values; to say that Roan had a commanding prescience was an understatement. He positively exuded nobility and strength in everything he did. He did it even when he didn't intend to and it made Clarke think twice. She'd frequently catch herself thinking things like "Bellamy would never do that" or "Roan makes it look easy." She even felt admiration in the way he handled people – boldly, honestly, and directly. Again, she had to stop herself from comparing that part of him to Bellamy. In this, Bellamy was seriously out-classed.

He was also caring, something she was most surprised at. It wasn't a face of concern and he wasn't coerced into caring because of his title. He truly cared about the people of Azgeda and she also believed him when he said he had no interest in a conflict with Arkadia. Clarke could also, reluctantly, feel how much he cared about her – she didn't want to acknowledge it before but now she couldn't help it. He'd made it plain to her, from the start, that he'd been curious about her. It was only after they'd spent so much time together that she admitted that there was more to their relationship than friendship and respect. In fact, she was positive that she had unwittingly fallen for the prince who'd never once disrespected her with lies or deceit.

It was at that moment, in the dark of his room, that she'd fully realized her own feelings. The conflict that had been stirring in her seemed to calm whenever she thought of being with him. The guilt that she'd initially felt over being even remotely friendly to him seemed to fade by the day. It wasn't until this very moment that Clarke realized how much she truly cared for the Azgeda prince. She wanted to support him, to help him, but unbelievably, she also wanted to protect him. She almost laughed aloud at the thought; what could she do to protect the strongest man she'd ever met? She bit her lip now, guilt starting to wash over her again. There was more to it than just protecting and supporting him. The cold reality that Clarke realized was that she was selfish – she wanted his support too. She wanted to take the step that no other Arkadian had taken before. To be a queen in her own right was a tempting, almost intoxicating, notion.

Clarke's restless mind had now wandered in that guilt and she could clearly see a set of dark, sultry, eyes staring back at her. Bellamy had never been far from her thoughts, even when she was with Roan. The guilt became heavier in those moments when she should have been thinking only of Roan. Bellamy was always there with her and it frightened her to think that she didn't want to let that go. She was so selfish, desiring both Roan and Bellamy by her side. What kind of twisted love could she possibly have for either of them when she so frequently bounced between thoughts of both?

How could she so easily, and suddenly, consider loving another man? Was what she felt for Bellamy not real? Was it all temporary, a fantasy she'd allowed herself to believe? Or was Roan the fantasy? It all became so overwhelming and she couldn't help but whimper into the pillow as she lay there, thinking of how to rationally explain these feelings that she so clearly couldn't control. She couldn't blame herself, she knew that even if she didn't want to. Bellamy was the first man she'd ever loved, the first to make her consider that love and power could go together. He had opened her eyes with his rough and overbearing nature and it had unlocked the door for so much more. Before Bellamy she had never considered the sexual aspect of a relationship – she wasn't ignorant before him but after she had been awakened, she could never go back to sleep.

She had chosen him, above other suitable and better matched prospects, because of who he was. If she wanted stale, safe, and traditional she'd have chosen Wells or Landell. She had wanted Bellamy because of his sharp mind and undeniable brilliance when it came to politics. She had chosen him because, despite the safety of a like-minded match, she wanted to truly bring the two warring factions within Arkadia together. It was a selfish and shallow reason to choose a suitor, but it had bloomed into something she had never intended it to. The way he had slowly started to soften had melted Clarke's heart and though she tried to resist, she couldn't deny that there was something between them. The thought of never seeing him again, of never feeling his arms around her, made her heart ache. Even now, when she might be content to stay in Azgeda, she felt the loss keenly.

It wasn't just because she had chosen him first; there was something deeper there, something in the soul, that had bound them together. When she looked at him she felt warm, as if the sun itself were shining through him. She'd found herself challenged by him as well, his cunning nature and pride in who he was cutting down any preconceived notions of who she thought he was. He was passionate, dedicated, but above all he was loyal; Clarke couldn't help the way her stomach turned with guilt now. He was loyal, but she had so quickly, and so suddenly, abandoned him for the slight possibility of unrestrained power and influence. Clarke didn't know if she was being self-righteous or selfish when it came to their relationship. Could she really forget him, forget the connection they shared, for power? And if so, how was she any different than Nia?

* * *

"We've been working on the drone all night," Monty pointed, leading Bellamy, Jon, and Landell into his workshop, waving at Raven who was glued to a screen of code. "We've been able to improve control, picture quality, and we've also worked out a way to take infrared photos."

"What about the reach?" Bellamy asked, moving toward the table where many parts and tools were strewn.

"It's only ten kilometers," Monty sighed, turning to Raven. "But we are trying to outfit it with software so that it can be piloted from a handheld."

"We need more time," Raven piped up, waving at Wick as he came through the door. "Did you get the camera mount done?"

"Good to go," Wick nodded, noticing Bellamy and the others. He sat down at the table, grabbing one of the tools and the drone. "I'll mount it now."

"So, what did you find out?" Monty asked, turning from the engineer at the worktable.

"He's drawn us out a decent enough set of maps," Jon replied, pulling out the two rolled pieces of parchment, the corners damp from the journey. "We may have to draw them again."

"I can digitize them," Raven insisted, turning from the computer screen. She held out her hand, opening the map of the city slowly. "And the guards?"

"There will be many," Bellamy noted, pointing at the entrances to the city. "Each gate is guarded and there are patrols throughout the city. There are also two dozen guards within the fortress at all times."

"So, what's the plan?" Monty asked, taking the other map from Jon and looking at it closely.

"Where is Wells and Harper? They are going to want to be here for this," Bellamy replied, looking about the room.

"Wells is standing by and Harper said she'd be back," Monty waved, setting the map on an empty desk and spreading it out.

"Tell them to get here soon," Bellamy nodded, turning to Wick. "Sorry but we need to speak. Can you…"

"Gothca," Wick nodded, grabbing a few more tools and the drone. After he'd left the room, Bellamy turned to Raven. "We need Finn too… everyone needs to hear this."

"What about Octavia?" Jon asked, looking at Bellamy. "She's going to be pissed if you don't bring her in on this."

"She'll try and talk me out of it," Bellamy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For now, tell everyone else to meet here. We have a lot to discuss."

It was a long morning, Wells, Finn, and Harper showing up a short while later. Bellamy had sat them all down, explained the predicament entirely, told them everything Koa had said, and explained their plans for the council. As he expected, Harper and Monty were hesitant, not wanting to upheave the council when war was so close. They also didn't like the idea of replacing their parents, the council being more of a burden than a privilege lately.

However, after a lot of persuasion and discussion about contingency plans, they were all in agreement. They would put the wheels in motion, pushing the guilds to draft a petition to be submitted to the military union. It took a while to flush out exact details, the sun rising and peaking before they had come to a complete agreement on the terms. They also discussed, much to Jon and Finn's displeasure, the infiltration of Azgeda.

It had already been past lunch, Jon complaining several times about how long the journey had already been. After Harper had some food sent up from the cafeteria below, making sure to meet the lowly cadet outside the doors, the discussion continued. They had agreed that their only chance was to disguise themselves among Lexa's delegation. Sending an ambassador openly amongst the Polis warriors would tip Azgeda off and put them on guard, even more than they already were. It also got rid of their advantage of surprise, something Bellamy was determined to hang on to.

If anyone knew they were planning this, it would put Clarke's life in danger. They discussed route options as well as who would go along. Bellamy and Jon insisted that they go and would not yield, Finn pressing his chance to go as well. Raven was uneasy about it but after some time, she realized it was only fair. Their three best were needed for such a dangerous mission and Finn was a useful tracker and swordsmen. They had sat most of the afternoon in discussion, debating the best way to approach Lexa about their plan and a fail-safe should she refuse to allow them to accompany her. Bellamy was not going to take no for an answer and he'd make her see it.

He also wanted to discuss with them what would happen after Clarke was back, what steps needed to be taken to assure that Arkadia remained stable and safe. Almost everyone disagreed that Bellamy should have to give up his seat, arguing that his status as a counselor would keep him safe in Azgeda. But Bellamy refused, determined to give the seat to Octavia who, he was sure, could take his place. She was learning quickly now, making Bellamy both proud and fearful. He also knew she would keep faith with Clarke, ending the feud between their families.

"I think we can all agree that we're taking an enormous risk," Bellamy announced, the group quieting down again. "But this is the plan and there is no turning back now."

"I have a final question," Raven interjected, making the group of teens look at her. "What happens when Clarke finds out about all of this? What happens when she refuses to leave you behind?"

"You have to promise me," Bellamy said, looking between them. "When she returns, when things are settled, you won't allow her to come after me. If she does, this will all be for nothing."

"She won't listen to us," Wells commented, a smirk on his face. "You know she won't and I know once Octavia learns the truth, she'll side with Clarke."

"Then you make them understand," Bellamy spat, the past two days weighing on him more heavily now. "You do everything in your power to stop them. I haven't gone through all this hell just to have her stubbornness and naivety ruin it all."

"We'll have to figure out a way to stop her," Finn offered, crossing his arms over his chest. He was propped up on the desk, his legs swinging deftly.

"I don't care if you have to drug her and lock her in her room," Bellamy pressed, his jaw squared in defiance. "Do not let her come after me."

"That's a problem for another time," Jon sighed, standing form the chair and stretching. "We've been at it non-stop for almost two days. We have a plan and Lexa will be here tomorrow."

"Let's all get some sleep," Harper nodded, placing a hand on Monty's slumping shoulders.

"It's up to all of you to get that petition passed," Bellamy reiterated, making most of them groan in acknowledgment.

"Get some sleep Bell," Jon urged, patting his shoulder as he walked past him. "The council knows Lexa is coming so it is likely they will send out a scouting team to escort her. Harper and Finn will join them and tomorrow we'll explain everything."

"We've planned for everything to go wrong," Wells nodded, standing up as well. "I'll speak to the guild masters and Landell and I will convince them tomorrow at the emergency meeting."

"Make sure you contact your brother," Bellamy urged, looking at Landell as he stretched in place.

"Bellamy," Raven groaned, placing a hand roughly on his shoulder. "Relax, we know what to do. Go get some sleep before you drive yourself insane."

"He's already driving us insane," Finn mumbled, a smirk on his face as he and Raven left the room, leaving Monty, Harper, and Bellamy alone in his workshop.

"I still don't like this plan," Monty sighed, looking up at Bellamy. "But if this is the way it has to be, I won't argue. I just hope you don't regret this."

"I'm leaving this to you," Bellamy sighed, looking out the window at the afternoon sun.

"Just get some sleep," Monty nodded, standing up and wrapping an arm around Harper. "You've got a long road ahead."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed it. I encourage you to favorite, follow, and review! It would be much appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed the maturation of the characters and the situations they find themselves in. I do find it very fun to write about these characters and try to capture their essence in ways that are natural to the plot and character's personality/archetype! Again, thanks so much all. Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Lexa

**It has been a bit. I took a break for the holidays but here you are! The next chapter of Arkadia: The White Crown! I hope you enjoy it. Lots of plot twists, betrayal, intrigue, and setup. The next 5-7 chapters will be released at least once a week for the next couple months! So please do enjoy. I've been so busy planning travel for this upcoming fall that I've neglected updating as well. I do hope you can forgive me! So please enjoy and don't forget to R &R! **

* * *

Bellamy sat uneasily at Jon's desk, looking around the room at the faces. He'd brought them all there, including his own sister. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of Octavia being in such a seedy part of town, but he knew no one would harm her while he was watching over her. She had insisted on being involved in what he was planning, and, after much deliberation, Bellamy decided it was best to tell her the truth. She hadn't taken it well and Bellamy couldn't blame her. He didn't really think she'd understand but his sister did know him well enough to see that he wasn't going to back down.

The group all sat in Jon's office, the same one Clarke, Jon, and Bellamy had sat in weeks ago negotiating this very alliance. Now, every family was represented around this small table as the music and laughter raged downstairs in the game hall. Wells, Landell, Raven, Finn, Monty, Harper, Jasper, and Octavia all sat around this table, Lexa in the middle of them all. She had come directly from the road to the club, ready to hear their proposal on how to rescue Clarke. It took some time to explain everything but once they had, she sat in silent contemplation.

"Though I am not opposed to you offering yourself up as a sacrifice," Lexa began, sitting in one of the chairs around the long table that had been moved into Jon's office. "I can't honestly see where this plan leads. Assuming we get Clarke out alive, that still leaves Azgeda with an Arkadian hostage. If my father were to find out that I left the Blake heir in Azgeda to save my friend, he'd never trust me again."

"We have plenty of witnesses that can confirm that Bellamy was willing," Wells piped up, nodding at Bellamy. "And we also have to consider the long-term repercussions. Though I have complete confidence in Octavia, and her potential, I admit that I am still worried about the reaction we will get from Clarke. She won't let this go no matter what you or I or anyone else tells her."

"She's stubborn," Raven affirmed, leaning into her chair next to Finn. "Not unlike you, Bellamy." Raven paused now, sighing loudly. "You're both so set on saving one another that you're willing to get yourselves killed in the process."

"I agree," Jon said, standing from his chair and stretching. He turned to the small bar along the wall now, pouring a few drinks for them. "And we also have to consider what to do about the council. They won't just step aside willingly."

"I can't guarantee that my father will agree with this change in leadership," Lexa affirmed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He has long-standing ties with the Blake family as well as the Griffin. Our treaties, backroom deals, and alliances must be maintained and I'm not confident that you can assure him of that."

"We've all agreed to maintain the status quo," Monty nodded, looking across the table at Lexa as Jon handed him a drink. "We've agreed to maintain the alliance with Polis and all that entails."

"The people will not see this as a fair compromise," Lexa warned, glancing about the faces at the table. "If a Polis delegation initiates a war between Azgeda, her allies, and the rest of The Coalition, an Arkadian alliance will not suit. Half the coalition already think the Arkadian-Coalition alliance isn't worth all the trouble it has caused."

"We can negotiate better terms," Harper offered, watching Lexa closely. "What guarantees would your commander need?"

"I seem to remember Clarke offering a fair deal for the support of your marriage," Lexa sighed, looking down the table at Bellamy. "Does that offer still stand?"

"The commander's personal guard will be granted access to Arkadian firepower," Bellamy affirmed, taking the drink from Jon as he offered it. "We will also hold to our word that Arkadia will, when needed, support the commander against any clan or enemy."

"We'll have to negotiate better terms for traded goods," Lexa demanded, looking back at the group around the table. "The other clans will never support it without incentive."

"Our soldiers aren't mercenaries," Harper spoke out, looking up at Bellamy. "Our soldiers won't fight for gold or the commander; they fight for Arkadia."

"I have to agree," Landell said from his seat at the end of the table. "They're already riled up because of the increased security and the rumor of Clarke's abduction. We cannot force them to fight for their enemy."

"The Coalition is not our enemy," Wells argued, looking from Landell to Harper then back at Lexa. "If anything, we should ally ourselves with the commander and encourage the alliance. It is the only diplomatic way to stop Azgeda's insistence on war."

"Half of The Coalition hates us," Monty reasoned, looking up at Bellamy. "And you'd send our soldiers to die for them?"

"The entirety of our proposal also extends us a position on The Coalition and in conclave as the thirteenth clan." Bellamy pointed, his voice eerily calm.

The room was silent now, the teenagers mulling over the proposition in their minds. Bellamy knew it was a risk, and the commander could deny them, but Lexa had already agreed to speak on their behalf. Even if the marriage wouldn't take place, The Coalition, and the commander, would benefit from an Arkadian military alliance.

"Can you guarantee that the commander will agree to this? That he will convince the other clans to back this proposal?" Jasper asked, taking a large drink from his cup.

"It isn't ideal," Lexa replied, her voice quiet. "In exchange for helping rescue Clarke and approving Arkadia's initiation into The Coalition, all we get is access to guns which, some may argue, we can seize for ourselves."

"Not without major losses," Finn reasoned, looking to Wells for help.

"On both sides," Lexa pointed, grabbing her drink from the table. "We need to tempt my father with something sweeter."

"Not just your father," Wells pointed, making them all look at him. "The entire coalition, those who aren't firmly in Azgeda's pocket, will need convincing."

"What do you propose?" Harper asked, the suspicion in her voice setting them all on edge.

"We can lower the taxes on exports to the Coalition by half," Wells suggested. "We'll also allow The Coalition to reasonably raise prices on exported goods to Arkadia."

"The guilds won't agree to that," Landell warned, looking up at Wells. "Winter is almost here and the unrest in the north has already caused a decrease in production."

"We can't just let this opportunity slip by," Raven groaned, looking down at Landell. "And we can't let our indecision cause us to make rash decisions."

"It weakens Arkadia's position," Monty argued, looking over at Raven. "But we need to ensure a secure, smooth, and quick transition of power."

"That's another problem we have to deal with," Finn pointed, taking a drink from his cup. "The guilds won't want to back our petition if we're losing them money."

"And the General's won't sign off on it if they think their men are going to be sent into a slaughter," Landell sighed, sitting back in his chair.

"Have you spoken with the guilds?" Jasper asked, motioning toward Landell. "We can't do anything unless the guilds sign off on the petition."

"I have approached the guild leaders about a meeting later today," he replied, folding his hands together on the table now. "But we cannot approach them without some sort of incentive."

"The same can be said for the Military Union," Harper assured, looking over at Lexa.

"We'll have to make some personal sacrifices if this is going to work," Wells reasoned, looking around the room. "The guilds make the most profit from exports to The Coalition but we have to strike a deal that the clan leaders can agree on. That means that the guilds need to be compensated for the loss of business. I propose that the domestic trade between the guilds and the counseling families make up the difference."

"And the other families?" Jon asked, taking a seat in an empty chair at the table. "Most of them have investments in guild trade including my own."

"That is why I said personal sacrifice," Wells pointed, looking around the table. "If we are going to do this, negotiate terms with The Coalition and overthrow the council, then we must all be willing to make a sacrifice for the greater good."

"That's a steep price to pay," Finn replied, looking over at Wells. "Steeper for some more than others."

"Do you have a better plan?" Octavia finally spoke out, all eyes drawn to the youngest amongst them. She was perched at the end of the table closest to where Bellamy was sitting at Jon's desk. Her voice, though smaller than the rest, was resolute making Bellamy smirk down at her. "All I'm hearing are excuses and delays. The Blake family is sacrificing the most for this alliance and will still agree to the terms. Are you all going to sit here quarrelling about money the entire time?"

"It isn't so simple, Octavia," Harper reasoned, looking at the younger girl wearily. "We have to ensure that the people support this decision or else it will all be for nothing."

"Nothing?" Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Saving Clarke and brokering a long-lasting alliance with The Coalition isn't nothing. It's everything and we all know that Clarke would agree."

The room went silent again, the heavy words hanging in the air between them. Bellamy noted the discomfort of most of his comrades but also noted that his sister looked even more resolute than he did. The noise from downstairs could be heard through the office door as the group sat silently contemplating their course of action.

"She's right," Wells finally agreed, looking over at Lexa. "Would this be enough to entice the clans?"

"Many of the clans oppose Azgeda," Lexa explained, leaning back in the chair and resting her interlocked fingers underneath her chin. "They see Azgeda aggression as a threat to their own lands. Broadleaf, Delphi, Sankru, Glowing Forest, and of course, Trikru, are firmly opposed to Azgeda. However, Delphi and Broadleaf border The Lake People and Plains Riders who are leaning toward an Azgeda alliance. Arkadian lands stand to be overwhelmed should their alliance prosper. I believe that an alliance, the lowered taxes, and the promise of Arkadian firepower, can assure their support in The Coalition."

"Is that a deal we are all willing to make?" Wells asked, looking around at the faces seated around the table. "Either way, this could lead to war."

"Could," Monty said, meeting Bellamy's eye. "But it doesn't look like we have any other option."

"So be it," Landell nodded, slapping his hand on the table. "I can bring these terms to the guild leaders and I'm sure I can convince them to side with us and sign the petition. They trust me and know I've been working closely with Monty on this."

"You have to keep this quiet," Harper nodded, looking over at Wells. "How can we be sure one of the guild leaders or Generals won't go running to one of the councilors?"

"Jon will go with Landell to talk to the guild leaders," Bellamy instructed, standing from his chair now. "Those who aren't in Griffin's pocket are in ours. Bribe them with gold, land, position, whatever is needed but be careful what you tell them."

"Harper and I can handle the Military Union generals," Finn nodded, looking between Monty and Raven. "You two need to finish the drone. If we're going to have any hope of getting near that castle, it's with that drone."

"And the judges?" Monty asked, looking over at Wells. "Who do they work for?"

"They are split evenly," Bellamy confirmed, moving to stand at the end of the table. "Some answer to Jacob, others answer to my father. They only got to where they are because of our families. The Blake judges can be persuaded to our side, but I don't think the others will comply."

"The judges only stand to ratify the petition," Wells reasoned, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. "It will be easy to persuade most them; I have enough pull to assure it."

"Then we have a deal," Lexa nodded, standing from the table. "I can present these terms to my father when we return from Azgeda. I meet with the council tomorrow to finalize terms for Clarke's release. I don't believe for a moment that Nia will give in to our demands, but we'll leave as soon as possible so be ready."

"I want everyone to remember something," Bellamy announced, looking at each of their faces. "Clarke may be stubborn, she may be entirely too optimistic, but she is practical. When she asks you why you helped me with this, I want you to tell her the truth. She'll only understand and accept this decision if she knows the truth. She has always wanted this alliance and it was only made possible because of me – don't let her forget that."

"She already knows the truth," Raven assured, a smile spreading across her face. "But if it means that much to you, I'll still tell her."

"She has always been as a sister to me," Lexa nodded, a nostalgic twinkle in her eye. "She will understand."

"Thank you," Bellamy smiled, nodding his head at the room. "Thank all of you for this. I can never repay you for your help; you all know what this will mean so all I can say is good luck. Clarke will be more difficult than I am, I'm sure."

"I'm expected at the Griffin home," Lexa nodded, moving for the door. "I'll fill you all in after the meeting tomorrow."

After Lexa left, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her, the rest of them seemed to relax. Jon moved back to his minibar, pouring some drinks for everyone who had migrated from the table around the room. Octavia came over to stand next to Bellamy, wrapping her small arm around his waist.

"I'm still afraid," she whispered, looking up into his face. "I don't want to lose you."

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead. His heart had broken when he'd first told her of his plan, seeing her tears was almost more than he could stomach. Her big green eyes stared up at him now with worry, but he needed to be strong for her. He needed to do this for her, their family, Arkadia, and most of all he needed to do this for Clarke.

"You have to be brave," Bellamy smiled, placing a hand on her cheek gently. "You will be the head of our family soon so remember to always be brave, but cautious. Weigh your options carefully and trust in your friends."

"I will protect our family," she said boldly, her courage returning to her eyes. "So, don't get yourself killed, big brother."

Bellamy only chuckled, wrapping her tightly in his arms again. He felt so proud of his little sister, realizing how stubborn she was; a trait they shared. After a moment he let go of her, taking a step back. The rest of the room seemed to be observing their encounter, most of their faces somber.

"It's really happening," Bellamy affirmed, making them all look at him again. "Don't lose confidence now."

"It's getting late," Wells nodded, setting his drink down. "We can't all leave at once, it will draw too much attention." Wells then walked over to Bellamy, extending his arm with a smile. "Good luck, Bellamy Blake."

"Thank you," Bellamy accepted, grasping his forearm. "Good luck to you as well."

Bellamy said goodbye to each of them as they left, slowly sneaking out of the club one-by-one until the only people to remain were Jon, Octavia, and Bellamy. Jon poured Bellamy another drink, offering it to him with a smirk. Octavia watched the two closely, her curious green eyes flitting between them.

"So, I guess Clarke got the alliances she wanted," Jon nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the wooden table. "Shame she won't be able to enjoy it."

"She'll understand," Bellamy nodded, taking a drink from his cup. "There really isn't any other choice."

"What if the guilds can't be persuaded?" Jon asked, eying him as he sipped on his own drink.

"They've been restless since Clarke was abducted but their unrest didn't start with that," Bellamy pointed. "For months now, they have been losing more money than they've made. With winter coming and The Coalition being on the brink of war, they stand to lose more if they don't agree to this petition."

"The real challenge will be the military," Octavia spoke up, looking between them. "They won't like the idea of fighting, and dying, for grounders."

"The General's understand that we already have enemies within The Coalition," Bellamy nodded, looking over at Octavia with nod. "They can't afford to turn more clans against us. We may have superior firepower, but we don't have the numbers, especially if Azgeda forms an alliance with other clans against us. It is the only real option they have at this point."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Octavia recited, looking between Jon and Bellamy.

"Precisely," Jon nodded, downing the rest of his drink. "I have a lot to do before I meet up with Landell and the guilds later. You two should go home and stay there. The less attention you draw, the easier all of this will be."

"Let's go home O," Bellamy nodded, setting his cup down and turning to his sister. "Mom will be wondering what has taken us so long."

"I'll send word when we've finished with the guilds," Jon assured, downing the rest of his drink. "We'll go from there…"

"Send Kat," Bellamy nodded, looking down at Octavia. "I'm sure there is someone watching my house so your sister coming to visit looks less suspicious than a messenger."

"She's still mad that she can't go with us," John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's also mad that I didn't invite her to this meeting. I wanted her to have plausible deniability in case this goes south…"

"I don't think any of us can claim innocence, even if it does go as we want," Bellamy nodded, motioning for Octavia to come with him. "But I will need her help, even if she doesn't need to know our entire plan."

"I'll send her your way when the meeting is over," Jon nodded, escorting them out of his office and down the stairs.

Bellamy had been thoroughly impressed with the renovations he, and Clarke, had made to the place. What used to be a seedy gambling hall had grown into one of the most popular places in the city. The gambling tables were full every night and the club made a lot of money on their special brew, courtesy of Jasper and his new line of mead and wine. This place catered to all sorts of entertainment and as Bellamy kept an arm close around his sister, he noticed a few curious looks.

"Your guards are waiting at the back entrance," Jon assured, leading them through a small doorway under the staircase into the counting room. It was littered with clerks and accountants, all of them bent over screens and paperwork. Bellamy had to admit that when it came to money, Jon knew what he was doing. He was cautious, organized, and he always checked himself and the numbers. This would be useful in the future, Bellamy was sure.

"Send word immediately," Bellamy reminded before taking Jon's arm. Two men in plain tunics and cloaks were standing outside the open door of the counting room waiting for them. Bellamy nodded at them before looking back at Jon. "And make sure they are all clear on what is at stake here."

"Will do," Jon nodded, saluting him lazily. "Now get home before Aurora sends out a search party."

* * *

Clarke sat snuggled in the warm furs by the fireplace as she practiced. Over the past couple weeks Roan had been teaching her more of his language and she was reading, rather slowly, a small book Roan had given her from his father's library. It was a storybook that his father used to read to them, something Clarke hadn't pictured a king doing for his young children. She had perched herself in the large antechamber with the moose head mounted above the fireplace, enjoying this room the most out of all the ones she had been allowed to explore.

It was rustic and beautiful, and, throughout the day, it was mostly quiet. Occasionally Clarke would hear a few guards patrolling the adjacent rooms or the great hall but for the most part, this room was quiet. It also had a stunning view of the river outside the fortresses walls. As Clarke thumbed through the small book, her thoughts raced back to a few nights ago, her doubts about Bellamy and her feelings toward Roan disturbing her from her thoughts yet again. She couldn't completely understand what she felt, or what it meant, but she knew that the future she had depended entirely on Roan's promise. So, she had decided, with much anxiety, to take the logical route. She would support Roan, become his queen until he overthrew his mother, and then return to Arkadia to finally, and genuinely, be with Bellamy.

Of course, she didn't think it would go that smoothly. Clarke expected this plan to take weeks, if no months and so she threw herself head-long into learning about Azgeda. She wanted to learn their culture, their mysterious religion, and their history. She was, as Roan had explained, one of the privileged few to gain access to these things. She'd found that their religion, and mythology, had intrigued her most and was stunningly surprised by how familiar it was to her.

It was as if the Azgeda people took their religion, and symbolism, directly from the ancient humans that had gathered such knowledge before them. Clarke hadn't expected Azgeda to keep the old ways alive in their seemingly barbaric nation, but she had been wrong. Old texts, most of them torn, translated, and barely preserved were from the time before Praimfiya. Old smudged photos and drawings and lessons from a world that, to the people of Azgeda, symbolized hope and prosperity. They had no idea that hidden in their religion, in their world, were remnants of past human civilizations. Clarke wondered if their religion, which praised nature and believed in a small pantheon of gods, was not directly related to the beliefs of Norse or Germanic immigrants that had settled here before. Of course, Clarke was the only one to draw this connection in Azgeda.

As she sat there turning through an old storybook about a god who could drain the seas and wrestle giants, she couldn't help but smile. It was almost relieving to see the past come to life here in a place that, for the most part, unwittingly imitated that very history. She hadn't noticed how much she had been smiling nor did she notice someone standing in the doorway of the great hall watching her. It was only after she'd finished reading about the encounter between gods and giants that she turned to notice the messenger. It was a young woman, her hair tied up on her head in tight braids and long tails, her deep gray eyes taking in Clarke's appearance.

"May I help you?" Clarke asked, her Azgeda dialect still a little thick.

"You've been summoned," the girl nodded, motioning for Clarke to follow her. Clarke didn't need telling twice, standing from the plush bench and stuffing the small book in her long cloak pocket. Roan had, over the past few weeks, gotten her an entirely new wardrobe which, to her surprise, fit and looked very mature on her. She followed the servant across the wide dining hall where, less than a week ago, Clarke had met and dined with the warchiefs of Azgeda.

When Clarke noticed that the girl wasn't escorting her to the training grounds, stables, or library, she became weary. It didn't cross her mind until now, but a summons would probably only come from one person in Azgeda; Nia. As they ascended the stairs to the upper gallery that overlooked the great hall, Clarke paused, noticing that Nia had just walked into the room below followed by three ambassadors, all speaking very quickly to the unhappy Queen.

"This way," the servant urged, nodding toward an adjoining corridor. Clarke followed her down this hallway until they reached an open, and rather ornately decorated, antechamber. "Wait here," the girl instructed, opening a set of double doors for Clarke. The room beyond was simple, warm, and highlighted with tapestries and furs. Clarke only nodded, entering the room and sitting on one of the armchairs near the window. A few minutes had passed before she decided to pull out the book again, losing herself in the story for what seemed like only moments before the double doors swung open again.

"Clarke," Roya smiled, closing the door behind her with a thud. She walked over, placed the tray she was carrying on the table with a clink, and grinned. She then placed a hand on Clarke's shoulder and sat down across from her. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a while."

"Since the banquet," Clarke nodded, making sure to bow her head respectfully.

"You've picked up on our manners it would seem," Roya whispered, glancing at the book Clarke had started stuffing into her jacket pocket.

"I've been learning a lot lately," Clarke admitted, hoping Roya didn't mind her accent.

"Your accent isn't bad," Roya replied in English, smiling over at her. "It is a difficult language to learn. So, I have some news for you."

"For me?" Clarke asked, trying to keep the anticipation out of her facial features. "That's a first."

"Well, Roan will find out soon and I wanted to be the first to tell you," Roya smirked, her eyes hardening slightly. "Small pleasures, Clarke." Roya then sighed, pouring them each a drink from the tray.

"Where to begin," Roya hummed, raising her glass to Clarke. "I believe it is best to tell you the new news, and then work backward from there." She set her glass down now, crossing her legs and leaning back comfortably as she surveyed Clarke.

"You've got my attention," Clarke nodded, sipping from the cup and setting it down as well.

"Your friend Lexa, she's coming to Azgeda with a Coalition delegation to work out some sort of deal for your release," Roya nodded, watching Clarke like a wolf circling a helpless doe. "We have affirmed that we will consider this but cannot guarantee that a deal can be struck. You understand, I assume, that we cannot just let you go. After all, your residency here is required if we're to maintain an Arkadian and Azgeda alliance both financially and militarily."

"I have no problem with remaining in Azgeda," Clarke replied, interlacing her fingers in her lap. "And I'm sure that once Lexa, and her delegation, affirm my kind treatment, and position, here in Azgeda, there will be no need to strike a deal."

"I knew we were of a similar mind," Roya smiled, Clarke sensing the danger behind those pleased, but always calculating, eyes. "You see, I personally think you'd make an adequate, if not excellent, Queen. Your smart, charismatic, witty, creative, and caring…"

"But," Clarke finished, a smirk on her lips as Roya's twitched with amusement.

"But," Roya continued, taking her cup in her hand again. "There is the matter of my position here, in Azgeda." Clarke remained silent, watching the woman across from her. It was eerily quiet, the clink of Roya's metal ring against the cup the only sound over the moaning winds outside.

"Are you suggesting we make a deal?" Clarke finally asked, watching her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

"I have a deal for you," Roya affirmed, taking a big drink and then setting the cup back down. In an almost majestic, and reflexive way, Roya leaned forward, elbows on her knees as her deep blue eyes hooked into Clarke's. "How would you like to return to your family, to your beloved Arkadia, and to your lover, Bellamy Blake?"

"I don't understand," Clarke replied, almost too quickly. "Why would you offer me this? What is the catch?"

"It's simple really," Roya replied, a truly frightening, and natural, smile coming over her face. "Did you ever wonder how, or why, the coalition knows so much about Azgeda? Did you ever stop to think that there could be more to it than gathered intel?"

"I don't understand… Azgeda is a part of the Coalition. Is it not natural for allies to understand, and respect, their separate cultures?" Clarke just watched her baffled, unsure of what she was getting at. Was this some sort of trick question to get her to slip up?

"You've known Lexa for what, most of your life?" Roya asked, nodding her head slightly. "Well, so have I. You see, she and I have been training together since we were old enough to hold a sword." Roya smirked now, her hands slowly raising to Clarke's cheeks. Clarke didn't dare move, or flinch, as her warm and surprisingly gently hands held Clarke's face. "We attended the same tournaments, the same games, the same schools and over all that time our friendship has always been a secret."

"No one other than the two of us know about it because to us, it is no one else's concern," Roya explained, her voice growing tighter, her hands harder. "Perhaps you can understand our feelings for one another. But I feel it is necessary to put it into perspective for you and to really drive home the point." Clarke felt the discomfort in her jaw and cheeks as Roya squeezed a little tighter.

"We love each other," Roya confessed, her voice hard but her words earnest. Even through all of her was hard, cold, and calculating, Clarke could see the desperate need and fear in Roya's eyes as she stared back at her. "And I would do anything to keep Lexa safe but the only way I can do that is to get rid of you."

Clarke's eyes went wide, and she struggled to pull back from Roya but Roya didn't budge. The intensity of Roya's grip didn't loosen on her face as her nails dug into the skin slightly. Then, as Clarke was pulling back from her grip, Roya let go, smirking playfully at Clarke. "You are dangerous to both Lexa and my family and so, we must, as Lexa would say, choose sides."

"What have you chosen?" Clarke asked, touching her hand to her cheek gingerly.

"Lexa has a plan to get you out of here," Roya confirmed, leaning back comfortably. "The night the delegation is to banquet with the royal family, I will create a scene. One of Lexa's servants will smuggle you out, to a residence in the city and from there you will have a long, and difficult trek south to your beloved Arkadia."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Clarke asked, no longer trying to hide her skepticism.

"You have two choices," Roya replied, pulling a small piece of worn, but recognizable parchment from her pocket. On it was the black wax pressed into the simple infinity symbol of the commander, the seal unbroken. "Trust Lexa or trust my family. It seems a simple choice."

Clarke almost snatched the letter from Roya, inspecting the seal before cracking it open to read the unmistakable handwriting. It was Lexa alright and Clarke had to reread the letter more than once to full grasp the truth of this plan.

* * *

 _Clarke,_

 _I will arrive a few days after you receive this. Be ready. I am coming to get you. Your friends are waiting. I will explain everything when we meet._

 _Lexa_

* * *

"So, what will you do, princess of Arkadia," Roya teased, refilling both of their cups. "You realize that you can't let Roan know anything about this, right? After all, his ascendency to the throne depends heavily on your marriage."

"Roan is the rightful king," Clarke replied, making Roya grimace. "He cares for his people and is the only clear choice. I have confidence that he can do this without me."

"Is that your decision?" Roya asked, a bit shocked at her response. "Betray my brother, who I am positive has fallen for you, and leave the throne of Azgeda behind in exchange for Bellamy Blake?"

"Did you expect me to be tempted by power?" Clarke asked, a coy smirk forming on her lips. "I think you've underestimated me."

"Overestimated it would seem," Roya nodded, raising her glass. Clarke mirrored her before they each took a drink. "Now, I must prepare for this little expedition," Roya affirmed, standing from the chair. "You keep your mouth shut, and keep doing as you have been, and we'll have a perfectly mutual neutrality between us that, I admit, comforts me."

"You won't harm him, will you?" Clarke asked, standing as Roya turned from her. "Roan will still be king?"

"Who else?" Roya asked, glancing at Clarke over her shoulder. "My mother may be a complicated, power-hungry witch with a distaste for the pleasures in life, but I am not her. I don't feed on the chaos, on the unexpected. I'm a simple woman with simple pleasures and one of them just happens to be a mutual friend of ours."

"You're not stupid," Clarke pointed, unsure if Roya was being honest. She did have an equal claim to Roan's crown and was never easy to read. "What is stopping you from hurting him, from denying him his crown?"

"You want the truth?" Roya asked, her voice quiet and dangerous. "Not very much but unlike you Arkadians, we value our family bonds."

Roya then turned from her again, opening the double doors before her and disappearing down the hall. Clarke stood there a moment, going over everything, the note from Lexa still clutched in her hand. Could this be her chance? Her opportunity to go home? And what about Roan? Would he be safe here, would he still be able to enact the coup against his mother if she left? Clarke didn't have any more time to consider that right now; all those feelings, all that familiarity of Arkadia and Bellamy came rushing back to her. Whether she regretted it or not, her true feelings had taken over and she had to get out.

Clarke hadn't realized she'd been standing alone in that room for a long while. Her mind was racing with regret and longing and standing there was all she could do to stop herself from crying and screaming with happiness. She felt the anticipation and excitement coursing through her veins and even though the pit of her stomach was heavy with guilt over Roan, she knew in her heart where she wanted to be. That, she knew, was her test of faith. She had been presented with the opportunity to truly choose and her heart had taken over for her.

Roan was a wonderful, kind, caring, and absolutely stunning man with all the good qualities any girl would want - but he wasn't Bellamy. She knew, if given time and distance she could fall in love with Roan, be his queen, and have his children but her heart knew that she would never truly be happy without Bellamy. She had finally, forcibly, faced that fact the moment Roya offered her Lexa's letter.

Clarke squeezed the letter, crinkling it in her palm before noticing a servant walking down the hall, directly toward the room she was in. Clarke stuffed the piece of paper into her pocket with the book and met the servant with a nod. The servant moved past her after a slight bow to clean up the cups and tray that Roya had left behind. Clarke, however, nearly sprinted for Roan's rooms. She had to get ready to leave on a moment's notice. She had to make a plan just in case things didn't work out, and most importantly she had to maintain her relationship with Roan. He couldn't know that she was planning on leaving or that Roya had anything to do with it. She almost ran into a guard as she rounded the corner toward the staircase that lead to Roan's tower rooms. He only nodded at her as she threw him an apology and ascended the wide but winding staircase.

Once she reached the corridor outside Roan's chambers she paused, taking a deep breath to not look out of breath, or excited. She didn't know if he'd be in their rooms or not and she didn't know if he had heard the news about the delegation yet. She just knew that when, or if, he decided to tell her, she would have to look surprised and conflicted. He had to believe that she wanted to stay with him and she wasn't entirely sure how to do that. She'd been content to help him so far, to go along with his plans and she felt that if she deviated from that, at all, he would know something was up.

She stood outside the door for a good minute, breathing slowly and deeply before finally feeling relaxed enough to go inside. When she did she noticed that Roan's solarium door was open, and he was rummaging inside the room. She could hear him moving objects and pacing across the floor and at one point, heard him mutter various Azgeda curses.

"Hello?" Clarke called casually, strolling slowly up to the open door. Roan almost appeared instantly, smiling crookedly.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to find my old training daggers. I thought that you might want to learn the basics of a melee weapon," he confessed, turning back to the empty solarium. "I could have sworn I kept them in here with my elk skins."

"I think it'd be fun to learn," Clark confirmed, moving to sit on the plush bench in the middle of the room. "And practical."

"I wouldn't feel comfortable if my queen didn't have some form of self-defense," Roan chuckled, turning back from the solarium into the antechamber where Clarke sat. "There are some practice weapons in the armory below. We'll check them out after dinner, okay?"

"Sounds good," Clarke nodded with a stretch, trying to remain casual. All the while her mind was racing with what to do, or say, next to keep him from being suspicious.

"I do have some news for you that may work to our advantage," Roan nodded, moving to lock the doors to the hall outside. Once he did he turned to her, Clarke noticed a sultry, gentle look in his eyes. He moved to sit next to her on the bench, Clarke forcing herself to remain close to him as he sat down.

"What's the news?" Clarke asked as he stared down at her.

"My mother has informed me that The Coalition is sending a delegation to Azgeda to discuss terms for your release into their custody," Roan explained, Clarke slowly letting surprise overtake her features. "Lexa is acting as envoy so I believe it would be the perfect opportunity to finally enact my coup."

"In front of the Coalition delegates?" Clarke asked, shock truly overtaking her features.

"Yes, with the Coalition delegation here, my mother will be entirely focused on them. She is weary of spies and tricks so while she is worrying about Lexa, I can rally my supporters," Roan whispered, a smile spreading over his lips. "It can be a bloodless and almost instant transfer of power without complication. With Lexa here to negotiate for the Coalition, we can truly discuss your release and my ascension as King."

"And you have enough influence, and support, to do it?" Clarke asked, feeling uneasy. It would make Lexa's escape plan much harder to pull off in Roan is also taking action against Nia.

"I do," Roan admitted, a bashful look overtaking his features. "But, I want to sincerely ask you something and, if you refuse, I will understand."

Clarke could feel the hairs on her neck stand on edge, the way Roan was looking at her making her frightfully uneasy. "What is it?" Clarke asked, keeping the warble from her voice.

"Would you seriously consider accepting a marriage proposal from me?" Roan asked, inching slightly closer to her. "I know we didn't meet under desirable circumstances, and I know you cannot fully trust me yet, but I am sincere when I say that I want you to be mine."

Clarke couldn't stop the blush that came to her cheeks, or the way she looked away from him in both shyness and shame. How could she respond to this? He was being earnest, and she had struggled, for a couple weeks now, with the choice between Roan and Bellamy. Her heart screamed at her, Bellamy's soft touch and deep brown eyes lighting the fire beneath her skin. But Roan was so close, so noble, and so desirable that she had to use all her willpower just to steady herself. How could it be that this decision, this choice, came to her from two fronts on the same day? How was it that what she was so sure of only a few minutes before had suddenly stood on shaky ground?

She cursed at herself, trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't alert him. She had to do something to keep his suspicions away and the longer she sat there in silence, the harder it was to untie her tongue with an answer. Roan noticed her apprehension, the moments turning into seconds, and watched her earnestly, a sort of fear flickering over his light blue eyes.

"I don't know how I feel yet," Clarke finally said, being as honest as she could be. "I don't know what I want and I'm never this indecisive."

"I understand," Roan affirmed, smiling slightly. "I didn't mean to throw all of this at you, but you have to understand, I want to protect you. I don't know what has come over me, or what you've done to me, but I feel like everything I've ever worked for has somehow come down to you."

"I was sure about what I wanted before all of this," Clarke admitted, looking up at him with soft eyes. "Before I knew you, before I left Arkadia, I knew what I wanted and who I was. But now, being here, with you, has made me question all of that."

"I won't make you answer me now," Roan nodded, placing a hand on her forearm. "But, Lexa and the others are going to be here within a few days. I would like to know your decision before their banquet."

Clarke just nodded, squeezing his hand over her forearm. It was a quiet few moments, both considering one another, before Roan placed a gentle, but promising kiss on her lips. She blushed again and this time he chuckled, brushing his thumb over her reddened cheek.

"So," he finally said, moving to stand. "How about we get something to eat and drink from the kitchen and practicing throwing knives?"

"Is that all you like to do?" Clarke asked, standing with him. "You're out every morning on a hunt, you come back and eat, then you're right back at it again, going into the town and practicing in the yard."

"I attend my business after I eat," Roan nodded, motioning out the window. "You think it is all servants, tax collectors, and politicians who keep this city running?"

"So that is where you disappear to?" Clarke smiled, moving to the bedchamber to grab a more practical jacket. The long cloak she had been wearing was far too heavy to practice in. "I didn't picture you handling the business side of things."

"I don't," Roan smirked, leaning against the door frame of the room. "We keep our business simple here in Azgeda. I make my rounds, ensuring all of the soldier's barracks, workers quarters, and food stores are balanced and adequate before I dine with my captains at the inn in the afternoon. We keep our meetings long and filled with ale and coin."

"And what else do you enjoy doing, besides hunting, drinking, gambling, and officiating state business? Do you draw? Play an instrument? Sing?"

"I usually like, and encourage, the company of women," Roan replied, his voice almost too silky. "We do what we are best at, right?"

"So, I see," Clarke smirked, buttoning up the smaller fur lined jacket over her chest. "Is that all you enjoy doing?"

"There are many, many things that I enjoy doing," Roan whispered, making Clarke freeze. He was standing right behind her. "Both with and to women…"

"And you suppose that I would enjoy these things?" Clarke asked skeptically, stepping away from him with a playful smirk.

"You seem like you might," Roan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Perhaps, but I was promised a lesson with melee weapons," Clarke replied, walking past him with a satisfied smile. "Perhaps, one day, you could take me on your rounds. I've not been hunting in a very long time and I'd like to get to know you, and your people, better."

"Consider it a date," Roan replied, following her back into the antechamber.

Clarke kept the thoughts of Lexa, Roya, the coup, her escape, and Bellamy from her mind the rest of the day by focusing on Roan and the proper technique of using daggers. Though she hadn't perfected the art of the bow, she was confident in her ability to use one, at least while standing still. Now, she had to learn how to use daggers; a skill she believed would help her in the very near future.

* * *

"The council has approved terms for the delegation to Azgeda," Lexa explained, looking around the group. "Four of my warriors have agreed to stay in Arkadia so that you can accompany me."

Bellamy, Jon, Landell, Raven, Monty, Harper, and Wells had all gathered in Jon's office again, finalizing their plan for the next day. Lexa would lead the expedition to the Arkadian border, where a platoon of Azgeda warriors would lead them to their southern fort town. From there they would be escorted, eyes covered, to the next checkpoint. It was a very careful, and tedious trek north to the Azgeda capital. For the final leg of the journey, a trek of wooded and rocky road awaited them for which, much to their dismay, they would be blindfolded for. Lexa did not know exactly how long of a trek this last leg was, but she was sure it would take them at least 3 days to arrive in their capital.

"Bellamy, Jon, Harper, and Finn will be in disguise as my Trikru bodyguards. You won't speak, you won't engage with anyone else on the trek?"

"What about the drone" Harper asked, knowing full-well that she would be the one operating it once they left Akradian lands.

"It has a radius of three kilometers," Raven explained, looing between them. "We had to shorten the radius so that we could make the drone smaller making it harder to spot. It is camouflaged but I don't recommend you fly it in broad daylight."

"It'll map the route back for us, correct?" Jon questioned, looking over at Monty.

"It will," he assured, motioning to his handheld. "It will send the data directly to a specially designed watch that, to most people, looks like an old relic but controls, and programs, the drone wirelessly."

"So, it is settled," Bellamy sighed, looking between them all. "We leave early tomorrow morning for Azgeda. Get some sleep tonight because I doubt that any of this trek will be easy."

"I'll meet up with the four of you just outside the northern gate, at sunup," Lexa instructed, her voice slightly on edge. "I'll have Trikru uniforms and face paint waiting for you when you arrive."

"And the council?" Wells asked, motioning to Landell. "The guilds and the generals have all agreed and signed the petition we presented to them yesterday. The judges are set to affirm it in the morning."

"We'll assemble the embassy guard after the judges have affirmed the new council," Landell continued, motioning to Monty. "You, Octavia, Wells, and I will then inform the council of our decision and, if we need to, we'll take them into custody."

"And you're sure the embassy guard is on our side?" Monty asked, glancing at harper.

"Yes, the captains have been informed by the generals and are firmly in support of a new council," Wells nodded, looking at Lexa. "When you return with Clarke, she will be sworn in as will Harper and together, the six of us, will declare the alliance with the Coalition, and clans that support the commander."

"Keep my sister safe," Bellamy instructed, looking between the faces around him. "Keep my family and keep Clarke out of harm's way. That is the only request that I have."

"And you make sure to stay alive," Jon warned, punching Bellamy in the arm. "That's your side of the bargain."

"I'll do what I can," Bellamy smirked, nodding over at Lexa. "Thank you for helping us."

"I've been waiting a long time to see this new world that Clarke has been talking about," Lexa replied, a smile on her lips. "I think it is time we finally gave her ideas a try."

"What should happen if you fail?" Raven asked, making the room go silent. "If Clarke can't get out or doesn't make it back here. What, then, should we do?"

"Press on," Bellamy instructed, looking over at Wells. "Choose a family to fairly represent Griffin interests and bring them into the fold. Choose wisely though; not everyone will be supportive of this new plan."

"It won't come to that," Wells affirmed, looking over at Lexa. "We can't let it, understand?" Wells looked over at Finn now, his eyes drifting between Jon, Harper, and Bellamy. "You three have to make sure she makes it back and Bellamy has to make sure that they stay focused on the hostage that they do have."

"I can cause quite a commotion," Bellamy admitted, nodding simply. "And Clarke will make it back; she's too stubborn to die."

"I have every confidence that we can get her out, and safely home," Lexa confirmed, turning to look out the window at the dark street below. "My informant has assured me that she is ready, and willing, to come home."

"You are sure she doesn't know that I am coming?" Bellamy asked, worried that Lexa wasn't telling them everything.

"Positive."

* * *

 **So, how was it? The next few chapters will be out every week so keep watching! Also, I'm going to experiment and cover more than two points of view in a few chapters that are upcoming. We'll see Jon's, Roan's, and Wells' POV in upcoming chapters! So I hope you enjoyed! Please R &R!**


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